


Shepherd Dog

by QueenofDreamlands



Series: Shepherd Dog [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Clarice is kinda a bitch, Don't get attached to Will's new boyfriend, Hannibal is a Cannibal, Hannibal is possessive and angry as fuck, M/M, New boo who dis, Obsessive Hannibal, Possessive Hannibal, Possessive Sex, Then Will gets hot and even, This is a Hannigram Story, Will doesn't give two fucks, Will gets sad, Will's new boyfriend is cute and likes to rollerblade, brief mention of off-screen suicide, but he loves Will, hannibal is an asshole, just sayin, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2018-11-05 12:01:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 37,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11013015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenofDreamlands/pseuds/QueenofDreamlands
Summary: Will's life is turned upside down when the love of his life, Hannibal, turns out to be the Chesapeake Ripper, and is taken to prison. After being depressed and haunted by the life he lost, Will decides to start over. He's gonna move to Florida, get back in shape, and meet a gorgeous new someone. Something tells me Hannibal isn't going to like this.At all.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I promised myself that I was going to wait until I completed the story, but I'm too excited, and wanted to get this out. It's summer, here's to no classes and college stress for three months!!!! A few things about this story:
> 
> -This plot has been done before, I know. I just haven't seen many that don't involve Will staying pathetic until Hannibal busts out of prison to make life meaningful for him again. I just wanted to write one where Will was a strong ass, cute, gaybie cinnamon roll that don't need no man.
> 
> -I like the character Clarice. She's an ultra intelligent, driven, southern belle. That being said, she isn't gonna be all that great in this story. She's that bitch, but she's also, ya know. A bitch. Nah mean?
> 
> -Hannibal is an absolute asshole, but to be fair, he canonically gutted Will, and almost ate his brains...so, yeah lol. Don't worry, I'm not gonna make it easy for him, though.
> 
> This is a HANNIGRAM story. If you don't like it, everything you own is in a box to the left. If you do, but it seems as if Hannibal and Will aren't endgame, that's because Hannibal wants you to think that.
> 
> I won't be that needy asshole that begs for kudos and comments and seems to almost threaten to end her story early. I'd love all of it, but I hated how bratty I sounded on my last story, and I apologize. I just love to write and I hope you all enjoy it.
> 
> That being said, enjoy Shepherd Dog!

The pure silence the room held was the only time Will could breathe. He gazed at the dark, Japanese armor across the room from him posted on the wall. He remembered when Hannibal first told him the story of how he acquired it when Will first moved in with him. His aunt, had bestowed it upon him, shortly before his move to America. It’s the last thing he has, to remember her by. Occasionally, Will would watch as he would take down the swords, and sharpen them lovingly. He always ended up leaving the room, for getting hot and bothered watching his strong, steady hands confidently maneuver the blades to and fro. It wouldn’t be long before the sounds of clanking metal would stop, and Will could almost count the seconds it took Hannibal to finish and hunt him down, strong arms wrapping around his waist. His chin would rest softly on top of Will’s curly hair.

“Feeling alright, my love? You left my side rather abruptly.” To any outsider, his voice would sound perfect, appropriately concerned for the wellbeing of his husband. To Will, the person that knows Hannibal better than anyone, he can clearly hear the amusement, and under even that, hunger. Will would then turn slightly, moving his head from under Hannibal’s chin to look him directly in the eyes. “No. Not even a little,” he’d reply breathlessly. They usually didn’t make it back to the bedroom at that point.

These days, even the silence didn’t help. It was accusatory, even when he was alone. How do you fall in love with a killer? How do you live under the same roof as a person like that, and not see that something was wrong? How does someone that is meant to profile and catch the most heinous of killers miss that the worst of them was in his bed? These are the questions Will has asked himself, and is positive has been asked behind his back in the halls of the FBI. When their home was surrounded, and Hannibal’s hands were being handcuffed behind his back, classical music still playing in the background, and oil still glistening on his hands from the food he was preparing. All the while, his eyes never left Will’s, who was crouched on the floor, back against the cabinets under the sink. Tears were threatening to fall, and he was having the worst panic attack of his life. Funny, how the cause of that panic attack, was the one that helped get rid of them in the first place.

Mockingly, Hannibal started reciting his usual mantra, “breathe easy, now my love. Deep, slow breaths, let your lungs do their job.” The officers holding him down faces held no limit of disgust. With all the caution, necessary when handling the Chesapeake Ripper, both officers brought him up on to his feet slowly. Before they got him out of the door, Hannibal made sure to get one last dig in to his slowly breaking husband. “You want to know why you didn’t see me, Will? Because you didn’t want to. Doing so would make you all too aware of the darkness inside that you’re too much of a coward to face. You’re not a wolf, but you’re not a sheep either. You’re the mangy little shepherd dog, wishing he could be both. With that last word, Hannibal was escorted out without a backward glance. Pityingly, among the hustle and bustle of the FBI, Will did just that. He just breathed in and out, in and out.

The next year was by far, the worst of Will’s life. With the humiliating court proceedings (see freak show), Hannibal’s preening in front of cameras and world, while telling all the morbid details of his kills like some perverse media darling, and everyone, EVERYONE, deciding they had the right to filet Will’s life to shreds. If it wasn’t Freddie Lounds from Tattle Crime at his door, asking if it was true that he purposely let Hannibal feed him long pig, or Kade Purnell, showing up at his office for some “minor follow up questions”, it was worst of all Jack Crawford, and his barely concealed disappointment, or Alana Bloom, with her beautiful, but pitying and somewhat accusing blue eyes. It’s no secret to Will, (though most things aren’t), that Alana had a thing for Hannibal, back when he was her mentor. Will knew some part of her never forgave Will for getting involved with him. All in all, Will was done. His hair these days were limp, and slightly oily from the lack of a proper wash. His skin was pallid, and lifeless. He couldn’t hold any food heavier than saltine crackers with ginger ale, without throwing it all up, along with his stomach lining. Will had to eventually find all his dogs’ new homes, knowing he was in no condition to take care of their livelihood, when he couldn’t even look after his own.

Another year goes by, before Jack finally caves and drags himself to Will’s house. He hasn’t yet found the will to leave it. Dust has formed on all of Hannibal’s expensive artwork and furnishings, and he’s sure the renewed nightmares that he has are particularly vicious for the intimate, shared space he allows himself to wallow in. All the same, he can still catch his scent in certain rooms, and on certain articles of clothing if he focuses hard enough, and despite it all, it still helps calm him after all this time. He doesn’t yet have the resolve. Here, at his door, trying like all hell not to let his astonishment over Will’s worn down appearance show, Jack tries yet again, as he had for the past few days, to get Will to let him inside. This time, Will relents.

“You know I wouldn’t ask this of you if I had any other choice. My agent, Clarice, has made some real headway with Hannibal. He likes her, and has gotten pretty close to her. As close as he’s able, I guess…”

 Jack proceeds without tact. At this point, he and Will are seated in the study, in the two seats Hannibal placed in front of the fireplace, though no fire was currently burning. If Jack noticed the way Will winced at his words, he didn’t say. He stared determinedly into his glass of whiskey, as he spoke, seemingly oblivious to the inner turmoil his words were putting Will in. Will sat reluctantly by him, legs curled in front of him, knees to chest, as he left his glass of whiskey untouched, in favor of tracing the thin layer of dust coating the end table in between the chairs.

“All the same, he’s giving her the run around. We know for a fact that this killer has had contact with him, but he won’t share.”

“And what? You think he will with me? Jack.” Will’s voice rasped sardonically, from disuse, disbelief apparent.

“I know it’s a long shot. But it’s the only one we have. I think it might just amuse him enough to give at least a tidbit. This killer is going to kill again, and soon. I’m trying to save lives here, Will.”

The worst part about it was that Will knew he was right. Hannibal would think it desperate to send Will, and would possibly share a little bit of what he knows, just to see what would happen. Only thing was, Will knew the price of gaining that intel would be nothing short of humiliating for him. All the same, he knew he would agree. He has yet to atone for all the lives lost right under his nose. He supposes he should start now.

“Alright. I’ll do it.”

 

It’s the next day, around noon, that finds Will in front of his bathroom mirror, gazing at his reflection. The mirror is large, and expands almost over the entire wall.

_Hannibal used to love placing Will right there after their shower. His curls would drip in front of his eyes, cheeks flushed from the heat of the shower and their activities, lips swollen and red from the abuse. Hannibal would stand right behind him, eyes locked on his through the mirror. “Look at how pretty you are, my darling boy. So debauched.” He’d slide inside him as he said this, watching how Will’s eyes would threaten to close, his back forming a deep arch, mouth open wide on a soft, tantalizing moan._

Will looked at his reflection now, and almost called Jack to cancel. He wasn’t vain, but he knew all his life that the considering looks he received from people of all genders weren’t for his keen fashion sense. Looking at himself now, he couldn’t help but be certain he wouldn’t get a single look that wasn’t full of pity now. He looked even worse now, than he did during the trial last year. His face was gaunt, and his eyes held deep, bruises under them. His lips were pale and almost always chapped from his lack of hydration. His eyes held no gleam. Where they were usually a startling stormy blue, they seem to have bled out into a lifeless grey.

Before he could change his mind again, he put on one of his sweaters over his wrinkled button down, dark khaki pants, and shoes. He still has the clothes Hannibal haggled him into buying after they got married. All of them were fine, tailored to his body exactly, and more expensive than anything he’d ever owned. He couldn’t bring himself to wear any of it. It wasn’t like it would fit him now, anyway. He tried to tame his limp curls with a brush and splash of water to the best of his abilities, then abruptly gave up, disgusted with himself. _Still trying to impress him?_ Without looking back, he grabbed his coat, and keys, and walked out the door.

Will thanked his somewhat lucky stars that it was the BSCHI that he had to go to, and not the FBI. At least here, he could walk among the staff, and not be whispered about outright. He met with Jack in Alana’s office. He was surprised to see that instead of Alana, a young, beautiful blonde woman was there with him. Both turned to look at him. Jack looked relieved. She decidedly did not. She walked up to him with authority, hand out for a shake. When he did, she looked him in the eye, overly aggressive and confident.

“Clarice Starling. It’s an honor to meet you Mr. Graham.” She was sure not to make the mistake of calling him an agent. He noticed how stiff she held herself. Clearly used to being underestimated, and overlooked. This case is her golden ticket. She doesn’t want him here at all. Her soft, beguiling southern twang came out when she spoke again.

“If I can be frank with you, Mr. Graham, I was just telling Jack that I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Will looked at Jack. His face was unreadable, but his eyes were clearly annoyed.

“We’ve already discussed this, Clarice…”

“I’ve already got a repertoire going with Dr. Lecter! To send him in now, will undermine all of the work I’ve put in.”

Will’s eyebrow raised at that. He’d been married to the man for five fucking years, and she wants to brag about being his verbal metaphor sparring partner? Some of what Will was thinking must have shown on his face as hers began to flush indignantly.

“He doesn’t speak of you. At all. He’ll go on for hours about what food he enjoys, art, the places he’s been, all of his accomplishments both legal and not, yet not a word about you.”

“Clarice!”

“No, she’s right.” Both Jack and Clarice’s heads snapped to him at that.

“Chances are this won’t work. I’m not enough of a fool to think that the person he was with me was real, or any love or affection shown. That doesn’t change that I must do this. I have to try at least once.”

Jack smiled triumphantly, eyes slowly regaining respect for Will. Clarice sighed. “It’s out of my hands. Don’t say I didn’t warn any of you.” With that, she grabbed her suitcase, and walked out of the office, and towards a bench outside to wait. The sounds of her heels were the only thing they could hear for a while.

“Ready to go?”

“Yes,” Will lied.

Both Jack and Will agreed that he should go alone. A guard was there outside the office, waiting to escort Will to Hannibal’s cage. Jack stood outside the door, the first hints of worry forming in his dark eyes.

“I’ll be right here, when you get out, Will.”

“I know, thanks.” Will replied softly.

The guard walked with him a few paces silently, before he started giving him the standard warnings. He talked slow, so that by the time they made it to the bottom floor, and past the security gates leading to Hannibal, he was just finishing.

“The doors leading to his room will close and lock automatically when you get inside. There’s a button on the wall next to the doors that will alert me, and I’ll get them open for you immediately.”

Will then looked up at the guard, noticing his gentle, kind eyes. Will responded to it immediately, shoulders beginning to relax. He quirked his lips softly in reply. Without another word spoken, he turned to face the opening doors, took a deep breath, and walked in.

 

The room was enormous. Instead of bars, he had a wall of glass separating his side of the room. He had a desk with soft paper and pencils with half-finished sketches, classic books and medical journals, as well. His bed was a small cot in the corner, though the sheets were perfectly clean and made. Will noticed none of these things, for standing in the middle of the room, staring directly at him, was Hannibal.

His hair was cropped shorter than he remembered. His skin was slightly paler for lack of sun, but he looked no worse for wear. What made him look so different was his expression. Will couldn’t focus the last time he saw him face to face, considering the commotion of him being arrested and all, but now Will could see it for what it was. Liberation. No longer did he feel the need to hide behind the mask of the eccentric psychiatrist, and doting husband. His head tilted minutely, nostrils flaring delicately.

“You smell atrocious, Will. I thought I got you out of buying that heinous aftershave.”

“Couldn’t keep up, I guess. No longer felt the need to.”

Hannibal smiled, nodded with deceptive consideration. “I suppose not. I must admit, I’m a little disappointed. I was hoping to continue my lovely conversation with the even lovelier agent uncle Jack had sent me.”

Will kept his face blank, not allowing the hurtful things Hannibal was saying to affect him outwardly.

“I’m sorry to say that you are not that lovely, anymore Will. You really have let yourself go.” Will inhaled sharply, sardonic half-smile gracing his lips.

“Don’t really give a damn about that, Hannibal. I never have. What I’m here to discuss is what you know of this new killer-”

“No. I imagine you do care quite a bit. You reek of tap water and perspiration. Nervous? My poor, little shepherd dog. I smell dust and whiskey as well. Still following ghosts in our old house? That’s rather unbecoming.”

“And that’s rather rude.”

Hannibal’s mouth snapped shut at that. He looked at him, considering for a moment, before he spoke. When he did, his voice belied utter indifference.

“You’re absolutely right. This place seems to have dulled my manners. I’ve become bored of this killer anyway. Tell Jack that this killer’s name is Grant Washington, an old patient of mine. He lives out on a farm at the edge of town, near Patapsco river. Tell Clarice not to become a stranger.”

Will was hardly listening at this point. His blood was pumping loudly in his ears, and he was shaking, with how furious he was. He was done. No more was he going to live like this. With this resolve firmly in his mind, he finally looked up at Hannibal, straight in the eyes.

“I will. Let me tell you something in return. This is the last you will see of me. Ever. Not the last you’ll hear of me though.”

Hannibal nearly started at the change of his demeanor, but kept it in. He smiled sarcastically.

“That’s mighty big talk, there Will. Some might even call that a mike drop.”

Will began to walk back to the exit. When he made it near the door, he quickly pressed the button. When the doors opened, Will looked over his shoulder at Hannibal one last time.

“That wasn’t a mike drop. This is: I want a divorce.” Without another word, Will walked out, never looking back. If he had, he would’ve seen how the smile on Hannibal’s face magically disappeared, his eyes worryingly dark, and jaw tight. The doors closed on that expression with an audible click.

Without stopping his pace, Will reached Jack, and relayed all he was told, never looking at him to acknowledge what he thought. Jack and Clarice got up from the bench, trying to catch up with Will. Jack ordered Clarice to call this in, while he tried to stop Will in vain. Jack looked both euphoric and concerned, while Clarice looked livid.

“Where are you going Will?”

“I don’t know. Don’t call me again, Jack.”

“Will-”

Will didn’t answer. Just got in his car, and drove away, thinking of warm sand, and boat motors.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't with y'all. The responses to this story has been unreal. I'm literally over here typing out the next chapter, trying to see how fast I can get this out. As this is first, and foremost a writing exercise for me, I will be trying my hand at a close 3rd POV for Hannibal soon. I want him to be as in character (well with my version mixed in) as I can. I am not a lawyer, and the things I made up in here, are likely 100% wrong. I briefly looked up the term 'legal separation', and let my imagination have at it, lol. I will also be adding tags as I go along, so be aware of that. (NOmajorcharacterdeathseverIpromise) I'm going to try and make this story last this time. So buckle in, and enjoy the next chapter!!!

Will decided to treat himself to a gloriously unhealthy, burger at a local diner he enjoys here in Baltimore for the last time. He didn’t want to delay his move any longer. He’s going to pack the few items he brought with him to Hannibal’s, get in his car, and go to Florida. His personal finances are more than enough to carry him over in a motel until he finds a place of his own. As a matter of fact, until the past two years, he hadn’t really touched his own money. He didn’t need to, but would have if Hannibal hadn’t been so damned adamant about his desire to take care of Will entirely.

“You enjoy punishing me, Will. In all our time together, your keen intellect and overwhelming beauty must have blinded me from the truth. You are an utter sadist, Will.”  All of this was said with a perfect poker face of stone. He was seated on the rigid wood of the bench in front of their booth like that of a statue. Their waiter had just put their grease-stained menu down, and left them to peruse the items. Will took one look at the severe discomfort on Hannibal’s face, remembering how he had Will in a monkey suit at the opera last week, and burst into a fit of righteous, delighted laughter. He placed his elbows on the table, leaned forward while raising a brow, and spoke with a low, gruff, hammed up New Orleans accent, like that of his father, with a slight hint of his Scottish-Creole upbringing coming out.

“Listen, mon cher. You gon’ sit here with me, put your feet up, drink beer on tap, and eat steak, and you gon’ enjoy it. Alright, baby?” He let a mischievous smirk grace his lips at the last word, dragging it out how his dad’s friend Reggie used to. He knew it worked when he saw Hannibal’s eyes squint at him minutely, pursing his pouty lips slightly, and sniffed, while picking up the menu delicately. From there on, Will had a blast. He convinced Hannibal to put a shot in a few glasses of his beer, content to watch him, course after course loosening up. First went his jacket, then his tie, then his perfectly styled hair… then his dignity.

“You enjoy bringing out the worst in me, dear Will.” Hannibal slurred slightly, as Will helped him from his seat as they left. Will gazed at Hannibal’s profile, his slightly disheveled hair, his flushed skin, and soft lips, and smiled softly. It was in that moment, that Will thinks he finally let that last guard down, and fully let Hannibal in. He leant close and pressed his lips to the side of his jaw tenderly, smiling against his skin.

“I do, mon cher, I do.”

 

With a painful breath, Will brought himself out of that dangerous thought process. Despite his tough words, he knew throwing away five years of marriage, wasn’t going to be easy. Especially for someone like him. He wasn’t sure if it hurt more losing Hannibal’s love, contrived as it may have been, or his friendship. Getting friends, real friends that don’t mean him harm has never been easy for Will. People never wanted to understand him. Except Hannibal. Hannibal took one look at Will’s dark, peculiar mind, and decided for himself that he not only wanted to understand it, but live in it. Have a place in it for himself only. If only Will had known that it was little more than a battle tactic, a way to keep the enemy at bay, by keeping him close.

Soured at his turn of mood, Will made sure to finish his entire meal, slowly, so as not to get himself sick, and went home for the final time.

The next day came, and Will woke up in the guest bedroom feeling more refreshed than he had in a long time. _I guess that’s what going to bed on a full stomach feels like._ He made himself eggs, toast, and a cup of coffee. He took each bite slow, allowing his stomach to get used to having an appetite again. While he chewed, he thought on his day, organizing all that he needed to get done mentally. It didn’t take much time for him to simply decide to take all his belongings, (as few as they are), and to make his way to Florida.

After his breakfast, Will washed up, and headed to work on the upstairs first, taking out sheets and placing it over all of the furniture, while taking and packing all his things. He put on one of his dad’s old jazz vinyl, the great Art Tatum, and got to work, humming along to Tatum’s masterful piano compositions, while slowly piecing his life back together. His hair was wild, and cheeks a faintly flushed rosy color when he got out to his car to put the last of his belongings away. It was at that moment, that he heard the sound of soft steps and the jingling of a collar. He took a deep solemn breath, and turned his head to face Alana, his former colleague, and friend. It was her, he had known first. Her that had introduced him to Hannibal in the first place. A part of him wanted to hate her at first, for bringing him into his life, but he couldn’t. The passion for such an emotion just wasn’t there. It seemed the same thing had been realized for her too, to be here of all times. Her eyes still spoke of pity, though it was muted now. Noting the color returning to his face, and the shine slowly creeping back into his eyes. His, were only for the multi-colored canine peering at him eagerly, barely restrained by his leash. She cleared her throat to gain his attention.

“I know I’m probably the last person you want to see-”

“No, the last person I want to see, I saw yesterday.”

She clearly didn’t know what to say to that, so she pressed on. It was an overcast day, completely dry, but constantly under threat of rain, and wind blowing harshly. Alana adjusted her grip on the leash with one hand, while pulling her wildly whipping hair from her face.

“I know that I’m no longer your psychiatrist, but I have to say that I’m glad that you’re moving on. You deserve it, and leaving this poisonous environment couldn’t be more beneficial for you.”

Will looked at her closely. Really looked. Under that pity, under that seemingly unresolved anger at Will, was an even deeper anger at herself. She hated that she was the one that inadvertently put Will at harm’s way. She hated that she felt betrayed by Will, when she and Hannibal were never really together. She hated that she was relieved that it was him and not her in this position now. His chest loosened fractionally. He walked to her slowly, petting Winston briefly on the way, and put his hand lightly on her shoulder.

He was never good at comforting people, but he knew how to try.

Her voice warbled dangerously as she continued, spurred on by his attempt.

“You have to understand. I wasn’t some love-sick puppy waiting on Hannibal after all these years. I date, I’ve moved on. It’s just… he has a way. Of getting in your head.” Mirroring blue eyes, one pair a clear blue, the other matching the stormy sky, locked with assured understanding. Both knew what it was like. Will removed his hand from her shoulder, gesturing at the sky, and then at the door, walking towards it. He heard her following reluctantly.

He took her to the kitchen only because that was where the coffee was, though he almost wished he hadn’t by the hurt sigh he heard come from her when entering. This space was undeniably Hannibal’s domain. If it was one place both his presence and absence could be felt, it would be here. Both shifted their eyes around the immaculate space uneasily, almost expecting to see the man himself, pop up around the corner, apron around his waist, and skillet in hand.

When both were finally settled in the study, coffee in hand, she continued her tale of woe.

“Being the administrator of the BSCHI is no mean feat. Especially when your former mentor, and colleague becomes a resident there. Visiting him is akin to torture. He speaks so softly.” She unconsciously spoke softer while saying this, relaxing at the fire Will was stoking in front of them, Winston curling up on the rug in front of it immediately.

“He was just like his old charming self with me at first. He’d never mention you. He behaved as if he’d never met you. Except when I mentioned you. His whole demeanor changed.”

He could see it in his head, perfectly. Hannibal, the ever-polite therapist and friend. Listening attentively, smiling encouragingly, all the while looking at the situation with a bird’s eye view, deciding how he wants the encounter to go.

“His smile became colder, more menacing. His voice stayed soft. He said: ‘You know, Alana. People used to always assume we were having an affair. Why didn’t we? When we became colleagues, I seriously began to consider you for more than that. There you were, this kind and beautiful woman, in the same profession as I… no one would question it. Unfortunate that you had to bring the endlessly more entertaining and lovely Will to me instead. I had to shift my attentions permanently, I’m afraid’. I actually listened to him, Will! I ALLOWED myself to feel a sort of resentment for you. You! The one that truly had to live with this. My friend. I’d never been so disgusted with myself in all my life.”

Her fervor finally died out. Will pondered on her words, while he sipped on his lukewarm coffee. Hannibal said similar words to him just yesterday. Chances are, he has no sort of real attachment for Clarice. He just used those words to hurt Will more, and probably endear Clarice to him more. Despite it all, Will began to feel bad for her. She clearly had a chip on her shoulder, and was blind to the machinations working against her by Hannibal. She was clearly still a lost little girl, trapped in a game long in the making.

Will placed his still coffee warmed hand on hers. She turned it and grasped it gratefully, eyes watering still.

After Alana left, Will stood at his desk, phone in one hand, while the other, balled into a fist, was on the desk. Winston, (brought back to Will as a gift), was tucked by Will’s legs, determined not to let his weird human leave his sight again.

“What do you mean, Beverly?”

Beverly Katz, Will’s good friend and lawyer, sighed on the phone. She knew when he called her by her full name that he was cross.

“I don’t know why, Will, but he’s fighting this. For whatever reason, he doesn’t want a divorce. He and his lawyer are determined to make this as hard for you as possible, starting with the possessions-”

“But I don’t want any of it! He can keep all of it, it’s not like his murderous ass, is ever going to be able to see it again!”

Beverly hid a chuckle at Will’s colorful language. “I know, Will. I told his lawyer that, but he still says he’ll only discuss signing the papers with you there personally. The best I can do for you right now, is a legal separation. It’s not ideal, your last name is still Graham-Lecter, but you will be seen as legally separated by the eyes of the law. I can get a judge to make the divorce procession start, but they won’t until you’ve been legally separated for at least one year.”

“That’s fine, Bev. I’ll take it, I don’t care.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to just see him one last time and get this over with.”

“Hell no. It wouldn’t be one last time with him. He’ll drag this out, make excuses. He doesn’t love me, (Beverly snorts), he doesn’t! But he wants me to still be bound to him. It’s the most entertainment he has, why not? That’s why I must put my foot down here. No more.”

“You’re fucking right, Matt. Let his weird as rot.” Beverly always had the habit of nicknaming him whatever dark haired, blue eyed actor she had found that she thought was hot. Today, he guesses he’s Matt Bomer. He laughs roughly at her brash humor.

“I’m going to miss you, Bev.”

“No, the fuck you’re not. I’ll be visiting you too damned much. Text me when you make it in.”

“I will, Bye.”

With all of that squared away, Will takes Winston, perches him on the seat next to him with the window rolled down, and heads down the street, and away, humming Art Tatum’s ‘Willow Weep for Me’.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Story's trudging along! Thanks again for all of the wonderful comments. Most of you all are pretty dead on about how this is going to go for Hannibal, (and how unpleasant lol). I love all of the support for Will! I feel like we're all his crazy ass friends that are tired of Hannibal's bullshit, and want him to have fun, lol.
> 
> Again, this is hannigram. Hannibal and Will ARE GOING TO BE TOGETHER AT THE END OF THIS STORY. That is all.  
> I find that I actually like doing a close 3rd POV for Hannibal and might do it more often, let me know how I did! I'll have the next chapter out in a few days.

Hannibal always liked starting his day with guests, though he must admit, (at least to himself), the one before him is quite unexpected. Will’s lawyer, one Ms. Beverly Katz stood before his glass cage with a look of thinly veiled hatred. Hannibal smiled benignly. He respected her. Liked her, even. When Will brought her for dinner the first time, as a friend, he was surprised. He never imagined Will would keep the company with someone as ‘in your face’ as Ms. Katz is. All the same, whatever she came for would not be for anything Hannibal actually cared to discuss, so he remained seated at his desk, though remained attentive.

“I have to say, I’m rather surprised to see you again so soon, Ms. Katz. Seeing as Will is not here, I don’t imagine you are here to concede to my terms. Please.” At the last word, Hannibal gestured to a lone chair on the other side of the glass. Beverly took one look at him, then the chair, and with a snort decided to humor him. It wasn’t something she did often.

“Will couldn’t make it even if he wanted to, I’m afraid. He doesn’t, though, so….” She smirked over at him, thoroughly enjoying this, though she wished Will were there to translate what the blank look in Hannibal’s eyes meant.

“Why ever not?”

“On a count of him being in the process of moving around a half a dozen states away, I’d say his hands are tied. Only metaphorically. For now, anyway. I imagine it won’t be so in a few months, huh?”

Hannibal ignored the rather rude comment at the end, while he focused on the somewhat more unpleasant forethought. He looked at her for a moment, then at his desk, reorganizing his pencils, while lamenting his lack of scalpel.

“Oh? You’ll have to give me his address so that I may send him a welcoming gift.”

“I doubt anything you’d give would actually be welcoming. Sorry, no can do. He explicitly said not to.”

Hannibal smiled knowingly, sitting up a little straighter in his chair. “Don’t tell me he actually thinks I’d be a danger to him? I’d have to think about him somewhat for such a drive, and I assure you, I don’t.”

“Yeah, no, he doesn’t. He just doesn’t put it beneath you to release it to some other killers, or even worse, Freddie. He and I are of differing opinions, though.”

Hannibal’s eyes sharpened minutely at that. This, is clearly something that had been on her mind. Something she came all the way over here to say.

“You believe me to have genuine feelings for Will.”

“Yes.”

“You think me capable of something as regressive as love?”

“However close you’re capable, yeah.”

Hannibal’s eyes twinkled with amusement. He brushed his short bangs out of his face, turning his left hand this way and that, admiring the strip of pale skin from where his wedding ring used to be. A completely manipulative move on his part, one that he knew must look completely unintentional, all for her benefit. He again looked on the situation before him with a bird’s eye view. He wondered where this path would lead should he pursue it. Allowed Will’s lawyer and confidant to believe he capable of and still currently in love with Will. He wondered what Will would do when she told him. It held enough intrigue in it for him, to not correct her on it, for now. On one thing, he did have to correct her, though.

“And when Will tells you that he believes that I have no feelings for him you believe that?”

“Of course!” Beverly snapped.

“You don’t know Will. Not like I do. When he says, he believes me to not love him, it is simply because he knows that is what he is expected and supposed to say. Same as he knows he isn’t supposed to enjoy taking life, but he does.”

“Will enjoys SAVING lives.”

“You say that like he can’t enjoy both.”

She was getting irritated. She picked up her purse and placed it in her lap, clearly intending on leaving soon.

“In the end, accepting that you don’t love him… that you never truly did, was the easiest thing in the world for him.”

Hannibal’s smile faded. His blood was beginning to boil, his stomach clenched. He told himself it was simply the fact that he didn’t like her presumptuous tone.

“Believing you loved him was the hard part, and you tore that down with ease. There’s no way he ever could, again.”

There she went with that tone again. He decided to rectify it.

“You underestimate me. And his desire to be loved and truly understood. For every inch of his soul.”

“No, I think you underestimate yours. I won’t pretend to be a scholar of the mind like you, or as superiorly intellectual as Will, but I’m no fool. And I think I understand love, and being in love better than either of you. I remember that dinner. You were your usual FAKE charming self, I fell for the okie doke, I won’t lie. But there was something you said. When I asked you why him? Do you remember?”

Hannibal’s back stiffened. He recovered his smile, though with more effort than he’d like to admit.

“Of course.”

“You said Will was by far the most intelligent and beautiful person you’d ever met. But I think you got a little lost there. You’d always focus so intently on whomever you were speaking to. You stared off into space! And you said-”

“There’s something so irresistible, for us as humans, especially the ones dealt a lonely hand to be understood. There’s a sort of madness in it. That’s what I first felt when I had my very first conversation with Will. He understood the essence of me in a few short sentences, and I thought myself to be going mad. That’s when I knew, I was his. And when he looked at me knowing my darkness, despite not knowing it’s exact nature, and smiled… that’s when I knew he was mine.” He smiled at her then, sardonically.

“Good memory, Dr. Lecter. Memorized or not, I don’t believe it was a lie. Will does though. And despite how shitty of a person you are…. Despite all the heinous things you’ve done, I feel bad for you.”

Beverly stood up then, preceding to the door, and pressing the button near it urgently. He called out to her softly.

“Why?”

“Because he was the one person in the world that could understand, and love you. You destroyed it, and that’s pretty fucking sad. Because it’s clear that’s all you know how to do.”

With that, the doors opened, and Beverly walked out.

Hannibal’s lips trembled, slightly. For the first time since he was a child, he felt something like pain tug around his heart. His palms itched. He squashed both feelings down, resolutely, damning the kitchen staff, for they must have put sedatives in his coffee again. He decided to go to back to bed, no longer enthused about guests first thing in his day.

 

 

Will huffed as he put his final box away. It’d taken him all day yesterday, and early this morning to get all his things squared away in his new home. He was lucky enough to have been given this fixer-upper, from a kind old man. He wanted nothing to do with it after his wife had died, and he simply didn’t have the strength to keep it up anymore. Will was a little ashamed at the lack of strength he himself had to move in, because of how he hadn’t taken care of himself the past two years. He planned on rectifying that immediately with Winston. It was in the Keys, and had a little shed where Will could work on boat motors. It was perfect.

After Will put the last box away, he turned to Winston, having just had his fill of water and food. He sat up attentively, tail wagging. He could tell it was time to go outside. Will got him on a leash, after changing into a light pair of gym shorts with a clean tee and tennis shoes, and headed out. He planned on going for a morning run with Winston every day. Along with drinking plenty of water, and delicious food. He learned after a trip to McDonald’s that he no longer had the appetite for subpar food. After his run with Winston, Will was going to the market he’d googled last night while making a list. When he made it to the park near his home, he set his music on his ancient iPod on shuffle, smiling softly to the sounds of Time, from Dark Side of the Moon, beginning to flood his ears. He started out slow, barely picking his feet off the ground. The park was expansive, but round, and he planned on going around it like a track. When he made it around twice, he picked up his pace, feeling that tale-tale burning starting up in his calves. He wanted to push himself to see where he was at. He was so focused on pushing himself through this run, pushing through Florida’s muggy heat, that he didn’t notice the person coming around the corner with speed. They were on roller blades, with a pair of rambunctious, golden retrievers. The problem lie, with the canines. When Winston caught wind of the golden ladies, he went nuts. He crossed Will with his leash, charging full force. The stranger on the blades didn’t have enough time to stop.

Will, naturally tripped, hard, scrapping his hands on the sidewalk. The stranger toppled over Will’s calf, falling on hands and knees above him. The dogs happily let their clumsy humans handle themselves, while they began to growl and frolic in the grass. Will groaned, while he turned himself around, the sun hitting him directly in the eyes. The stranger began to speak immediately.

“I’m so damned sorry. I should’ve known better than to try going around another dog owner like that with speed, I-”

The stranger, a man that looks to be around his early fifties, greeted Will’s view. He was handsome. His hair, despite his age, was still a flaming red, with a few streaks of white on the side. His face was slightly leathery, a man that was outdoors a lot, and clearly loved it. His eyes were a warm, green like the meadows the dogs were playing in. Will quirked the corners of his lips into a semblance of a smile, while getting himself off the floor. That seemed to snap the stranger out of his daydream, as he too got off the ground. Or tried to, at least.  His blades wobbled precariously while he tried to get up. Without thought, Will leaned forward to help him.

He regretted it immediately. The man was sweaty, as was he, and he smelt like salty flesh, and Cheetos. A heavy dose of awkward met him. Despite that, the man latched on immediately with gratefulness beaming in his eyes.

“Thank you. May I ask your name?”

“Will Graham. Yours?” The man didn’t seem to recognize him from the tabloids, but he omitted his hyphenated last name regardless.

“Henry O’Sullivan.” The man smiled cheekily. He took one glance at the dogs, laughed heartily, then back at Will, still having not released him. Will tried to look over his shoulder, but couldn’t see. He looked up at the man’s eyes briefly, but warily. Henry continued to smile down at him. He was quite a bit taller than Will, though slenderer.

“Good thing my girls are fixed. I think yours likes my Sadie quite a lot.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This past week has been a roller-coaster!!! Thank you to all of you that reviewed, and left kudos, I can't thank y'all enough. I won't bog you all down on the why it took longer than planned. You're all intelligent folks, and know that life waits for no one. All the same, I am working on the next chapter right now, so I can get it out to you all faster!!! A few house rules first:
> 
> I'm a writing major. Constructive criticism is something that is vital to me, and is imperative for me to have the thick skin to take. All the same, this is fanfiction y'all, try not to take it too serious. If the characters are too ooc, or the story doesn't go the way you want, just leave, it won't hurt my feelings! lol, I do that sometimes as well, that's life. Sometimes stories just end up not being our cup of tea, and that is COMPLETELY OKAY. (This literally only applies to a few people. Like... 98% of y'all are wonderful cinnamon rolls that are amazingly supportive)
> 
> Moral of the story is don't be a dick, and don't tell me how to write my shit. I'm not good with authority. This is what we in the south call a 'Come to Jesus' talk... I do it because I love y'all, lmao. Now, without further ado, enjoy the chapter. I'll see ya soon.

_Humming could be heard coming from the otherwise completely silent man. Tears began to fill his eyes as he gazed at his latest work. Another soul saved. The air around the old church seemed to vibrate with ancient life around him. He yearned to tap into it once more. There were more of the obscure to save. So much more that the world had to see. He continued to hum as he packed away his tools of absolution, and exited the dark chapel, feeling the cool air from the black mountains caress his face. The tell-tale itch of a new mission on the horizon beckoned him, but for now he will rest. He closed the doors on the pair of lifeless eyes gazing back at him._

 

Will sat on his porch facing the coastline, sweaty, sore, and laughing thoroughly at the sight of Henry and their dogs’ shenanigans. He ran his fingers through his freshly chopped hair, glad for the inches finally taken from his wild mane. Henry not so subtly demanded he not cut too much off, and he relented, keeping his full curls intact, only taking off a few inches in the back. After, as he is referring to his life after his life fell apart, Will didn’t bother with menial things like eating and sleeping, let alone taking care of his hair. Will wondered what on earth possessed Henry to ask him out that fateful day in the park several months ago. He was brought out of his musings, when a tennis ball was thrown in his lap. Like clockwork, the sounds of panting and light paws could be heard quickly making their way to him.

Bright blue eyes looked up to see Winston and the golden girls, Sadie and Pearl, looking at him expectantly. Will looked over at Henry with amusement, breathing a laugh.

“Couldn’t keep up with the game you started, so you bring them to me?”

Henry lifted his head from in between his legs, hands on his knees. He was even more sweaty than Will, his face as red as his hair from the exertion. He smirked impishly.

“Sadie bites when she gets excited.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen.”

“Pearl is infatuated with both you and Winston and will follow wherever either of you go.” He remarked, while plopping down on the grass. He immediately resorted to pulling at it, like a kid. Will smiled wider.

“And Winston?”

“Winston…has clearly been around his owner for too long.”

Will arched a brow at that. “Oh?”

“Yep.” He popped the ‘p’ with an audible sound. “He’s smart, cunning…and kinda gorgeous. And knows how to use all of that to his advantage.”

Will laughed at that. He refused to acknowledge how hollow it sounded in his ears. Despite his best efforts, he knew deep down that something was still missing.

Henry and he made sense. Will didn’t have to try too hard. Hell, he didn’t really have to try at all. Conversation was simple. Normal, day-to-day, happenings, anecdotes from unusual or funny bits from work. Henry owned a local skating rink, and had his own roller derby team. Occasionally, he’d come by with minor bruises, and a funny story of the happenings at his rink. Sex was, sex. Henry was a fun, lively person, but tended to be a standard missionary, lights off, blankets pulled forward type. He naturally assumed Will would be somewhat the same, judging by his quiet demeanor. Their first time together was a slightly awkward affair, that they were luckily able to laugh off later (Will’s more forced than Henry’s). Will was an extremely passionate lover. Always had been. He never sought it out, because of his social ineptitude, and general dislike for humans, but whenever he’d find that rare, worthy person, he didn’t let up. He didn’t know how to do things that intimate half way, and always found himself completely immersed in the other person, eyes locked on theirs, finding their every wish and desire, and manifesting it as best as he was able.

It was somewhat of a douse of ice water, when Will was above Henry, thighs locked around his, fucking himself on his erection for all he was worth when he looked into Henry’s eyes and saw that he was… overwhelmed. Will immediately got the gist that Henry liked simple, sex and adjusted himself accordingly. For days after, Henry jokingly called him a little wildcat. Will grimaced every time. From then on, Will became accustomed to sex on his back, in the dark, gazing at a sweat damped head bent over to look at his dick entering Will. It made it hard for Will’s mind not to drift to a different pair of hands gripping his hips. Strong, lithe hands manhandling him this way and that, pulling him up against a hairy chest, whispering filthy, accented commands for him to obey. Sometimes Will failed and came explosively, eyes clenched shut, tongue bitten to refrain from saying the name behind his lips.

 

The day they met, Will waved away his apology, collected Winston, citing his need to make it to the market, and tried to flee. That lasted all of thirty minutes, when after Will dropped Winston off at home, and went to said market. He found himself in the produce section looking at squash, when he saw a pair of scuffed New Balances edging closer to him. He slowly looked up from the sensible athletic shoes, to a pair of pale, hairy legs, loose basketball shorts, up to a pair of hands holding up Neosporin and band aids. A tuft of wild, red hair could be seen in between them.

“I already own these, I promise. I noticed you scraped those hands of yours… I don’t mean to be a bother.” For the first time in a while, Will purposely looked into someone else’s eyes. He saw true kindness, and curiously enough, attraction. He willed himself to smile, to try this again. This was exactly what he moved here for. The smile on his dried out lips was a grimace at best. “You’re not, don’t worry.” They began dating shortly after that, frequently visiting each other’s house, personal dog or dogs in tow.

 

Now, Will was certain he looked more the part of this cunning, gorgeous man Henry spoke of. Then, not so much. His hair got several shades lighter from constant sun exposure, of which he made sure to wash when needed, curls light and fluffy once again. He regained his healthy weight, and muscle from daily exercise and calorie-filled meals. He drank just as much water as Winston, if not more, and his skin reflected that, moisture and life back into his flushed, tanned skin, and soft supple lips. His wardrobe was replenished, though it reflected his atmosphere, and was much different to his in Baltimore.

Most shirts were light, button downs, sleeves rolled, and several buttons usually left open. The only time he wore shoes were when he was out, running, or working on a boat in his shed.

Will played with the dogs for a while in Henry’s stead, contemplating the thoughts that had been haunting him for the past several days. He decided that he was going to tell Henry about Hannibal. It was way past time he knew. It was a miracle, that he didn’t already, except Henry wasn’t really the type to follow the news, let alone something so morbid. He refuses to even watch horror movies. Any sort of violence is senseless to him. Will wondered how he would take knowing that Will’s estranged husband made a name for himself out of it.

Dinner was the usual, relaxed affair. The dogs’ received their homemade meat medley, fresh water, and were laid out on Will’s living room rug, after having relieved themselves in the backyard. It was Will’s turn to cook, and as it was their cheat day, he brought out his father’s best friend Reggie’s recipe for southern fried chicken, buttery mashed potatoes, greens, mac n’ cheese, and sweet iced tea. After Henry finished his seconds, (“these greens are heaven. Is this bacon?”), moaned his delight at the lemon-pound cake, and sipped at his coffee while running his fingers through Pearl’s, Will found his chance when he found himself couched between pillows and Henry’s warm chest on his loveseat.

“I have something to tell you. I just want to say I’m sorry, okay? I never meant to go this long, we just happened so fast, ya know?” Will ran his fingers through his hair, accent growing thicker with his nerves and agitation. Henry wrapped his arms around Will tighter in encouragement, though his heart did pick up speed at his words.

“I was married to the Chesapeake Ripper, Hannibal Lecter. Legally still am, in fact.”

“He’s the one that was all over Baltimore…”

“Yes. Brutally mutilating and cannibalizing his victims.”

Henry took a breath at that. “I knew it was something along those lines.”

“What?” Will breathed.

“That day you came to bring my old skates after the new ones gave me too many blisters? Connie was there, and when she saw you she said she no longer wanted to be on the team.”

Connie was one of the members of the roller derby team Henry refereed for. He used to mention her on occasion, making Will laugh about her apparent one-sided crush on Henry, and her silly attempts at seduction on the skating rink. Will honestly hadn’t given much thought into why he stopped.

“I’m sorry for all the shit you’ve had to go through. I can’t even begin to imagine what life living with such a monster must have been like for you. Just know that I’m here for you… and I’m not going anywhere.”

Will relaxed against Henry breathing a sigh of relief, while a quiet sense of indignation filled him at his words. A small part of him wanted to defend his relationship, remind him that he had no idea of who the real Hannibal was, that Hannibal was as human as the both of them, but refrained. He’d probably look as crazy as Connie and her friends think he is. Before he could dwell on it much further a couple of brisk knocks sounded at his door. After a sigh, Will untangled himself from Henry and made his way to the door, freezing abruptly when he opened it.

“Wow, you look great Will! It’s been awhile.”

“Jack?"

He sighed.

“I know you didn’t want to see me, but it couldn’t be helped…”

“Jack.”

“There’s a new serial killer, Will.”

“Jack, don’t-”

“I need you, Will…May I come in?”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to put this one up now, so that we can get the ball rolling into the story. It's a bit of a filler, but is still filled with important stuff that sets up the next few chapters. Also, it was brought to my attention in one of the comments, so I'll go ahead and say that yes, there will be some parallels to Hannibal Season 3. (Not too much tho!)
> 
> The next one we will get to see what Hannibal has been up to, and what he's been ruminating on. Y'all are awesome as always with the kudos and reviews, I don't even have the words. Without more ruckus, here's the next chapter, I hope y'all enjoy it!!!

“No. I’ll come outside. We can talk on the porch. You can try to guilt me into destroying my life for you again, and I’ll tell you no, and you’ll take your FBI funded SUV and leave."

Jack started at that. He stood still in the door, dark eyes darting around, looking for an in. They zoomed in on Will, looking past his newer, healthier state, and to his demeanor. He leaned against the door, blocking his view inside. His arms were folded against his chest, completely closed off to him. His lighter-brown hair fell over his brow blowing steadily in the breeze. His face was immobile, Jack realized. Not hostile, just empty. For once, he couldn’t get a read on him. He tried intimidating him by a stare down, but for once was the one to look away. Maybe it was his lack of emotional expression, or that his darkened skin made his blue eyes even more piercing, but Jack found he couldn’t look him in the eye without shards of ice forming around him despite the warm, muggy weather.

After a few seconds, he about-faced, finding a sturdy bench on the porch, and perching on it, recalling his resolve to see this through. All the way here, he’d been on the phone with the victims’ loved ones, FBI personnel, and reporters trying to get a statement. Every time he tried to look at the photos, every time he had to step inside one of those old, Baptist churches like the one his grandmother used to take him to and see dead bodies looking back at him… he locked down. Instead of seeing MO’s and profiles, he saw worn brown hands toiling in the kitchen. When he was supposed to be looking for evidence and motives, he found himself thinking of chocolate curls, thyme-scented hands, and wheezing, failing, lungs. He no longer had what it took. He knew he had a spot in hell waiting for him, but he was determined to take as many serial-killing son-of-a-bitches with him, consequences be damned.

“I suppose all I can do is try, right Will? Isn’t that what you’re doing, with this new life of yours?”

Will’s eyes narrowed at that. It wasn’t remotely the same, and Jack knew it. Will went inside for a moment, speaking lowly, but to who, Jack couldn’t say. After a handful of minutes, Will returned, with a bottle of whiskey, and two glasses, and shut the door resolutely behind him. He poured two fingers for Jack, and a little less for himself, and plopped down on the other side of the bench, arms around the back, and legs sprawled. He took a sip, emptying his small portion, and placed it on the end table.

“Might as well have at it, Jack.”

“You’ve moved on more than I thought.” Jack sounded pleased, though concerned at the same time. Will decided that he didn’t give a shit as to why.

“Jack. The case.”

“Right. Well…. It’s a religious one.”

Will sighed. He fucking hated those. People doing shitty things in the name of a higher power, that more times than not, is their mental illnesses speaking to them. Meanwhile, instead of seeking help, the families resort to “praying away the spirit of…” whatever it is they deem the spirit is. Then when the killer is dead, or on trial, people finally want to claim that they were sick, while the bodies in their wake grow cold.

“A man, most likely takes people. Regular, unassuming people, and poses them as characters in the bible. The cause of death has been blood loss through knife wounds. Despite that, he keeps the scene very clean. Tails the victim, gives them a sedative, abducts them, and takes them to church. A different one every time, though all have been in North Carolina, so far. He strips them, baptizes them, and places them in biblical-type robes. He anoints their heads with blessed olive oil that the pastor keeps in the pulpit at the church, and binds them to the altar. He then bleeds them out through a major artery. They die within minutes. No DNA, no prints.”

With that last word, Jack pulled out several photos of the crime scenes, and holds them out to Will. Will still holding onto his glass, refuses them. Jack, undeterred places them on Will’s lap. The glossy photos stare up at Will with accusation, demanding he look once more. Will sighed. “I’d say I don’t know what you expect from me, but I do. I can only say that I won’t.”

Jack pulled himself up in his seat at this, boring his eyes into the side of Will’s head.

“You don’t understand, Will. I’m glad you’ve found a new life, really, I am! But-”

“It’s you that doesn’t understand, Jack. Like you, I’d given my life to death. Nearly died in the process. And I’m not talking about the part where I was living under the same roof as a cannibal for half a decade… I mean after. I nearly died afterwards Jack, do you HEAR ME?” It almost seemed like a shout with how intense Will’s words were, but he kept his voice low, not wanting to alarm Henry.

“I can’t save everyone. I’m lucky I was able to save myself.” With those last words, Will got up, placed the photos next to Jack, and headed towards the door. Jack spoke one last time as he too got up, walking towards his car after placing his glass down as well.

“No, you can’t. But the next time you look in the papers, or watch the news and see this killer’s latest victim? It will haunt you. Worse than Hannibal ever could, because you’ll know, just as I know that you could’ve saved them but chose not to. Goodbye, Will.”

Jack lumbered his way down his porch, and to his vehicle, never looking back.

“Should you choose to do the right thing, you know how to reach me.”

Will slammed the door behind him much harder than he intended. Winston was sitting up, alert and aware of how his master was feeling, while the golden girls stayed oblivious, lounging around Henry. Henry was… staring. “Will?”

“I-I can’t. I just, please.” Will walked past Henry at that, intending to lock himself up in his bedroom. He barely makes it a few paces before his waist is pulled back into a soft belly, and warm chest.

“We don’t have to talk about it. At all. Just let me know something. Will it be worse if you stay or go?”

Will thought about it. He knows what to expect when he looks. He’ll get nightmares. He’ll get consumed in the killer’s mind. He’ll be terrified. On the other hand, he has no idea what will happen if he stays. It’s too much to hope for expecting that he won’t hear about the next victim, he’s so much closer to North Carolina from here than he was back in Baltimore.

He tried to imagine seeing their face looking back at his. A face that would be very much alive with their family and friends, if the killer had been caught. If he’d caught them. And he knew. He’ll get nightmares. He’ll get consumed with guilt. He’ll be terrified.

“I suppose…it’ll be the same, now. Now that Jack has brought it to my awareness, there’s no going back. If I’ll be miserable either way…I might as well choose the option that saves lives, right?” Will refused to acknowledge how broken he sounded, how defeated.

“Don’t you dare let this beat you, Will Graham.” With that, Will was turned around in Henry’s arms. He looked all the way up to Henry’s unwaveringly kind green eyes.

“You JUST told me about who you were married to, and I just heard you say in your own words how that almost ended you. But here you are. If you can go through that, then you can solve that damned case, and come back to me.” Henry smiled with his last words, so sure and confident. It affected Will. He in turn stood up a little straighter against him, chin higher in defiance.

Why not? Why can’t he solve this case, and be okay? He’s no broken tea cup, he’s Will fucking Graham.

“Alright, I’ll do it. I’m gonna kick this case’s ass.”

“Hell yeah!” Henry wooted at that, happy to see Will come around.

Later that evening, Will came to the realization, that he had most likely been empathizing with Henry earlier. He’s not an overly confident or positive person usually, but this time, he’s taking it as a win. Who doesn’t want to be influenced by someone that makes them feel better about themselves? When he was with Hannibal, he didn’t feel like that.

That was a lie. In his heart, Will knew what Hannibal made him feel was beyond words, or comprehension. It was more than reflecting Hannibal, it was like Hannibal unlocked a part of Will that he didn’t even know existed.

Will dug himself out of that line of thinking with a thorough shake. While Henry was away at the skating rink, Will decided to call Beverly.

“What up, Henry? How’re you and Henry?”

“What the hell?”

“I watched Man of Steel recently.” Right. Henry Cavill.

“How long have you been waiting to use that one Bev?” “Longer than I care to admit.” Beverly deadpanned. Will began to laugh, already feeling better hearing his best friend on the phone.

“To answer your question, we’ve been good. Excellent. I told him about Hannibal.”

Beverly gasped. She knew how worried Will had been with how he would react.

“How did it go?”

“He took it really well. He said he already kind of knew it had to be something. I guess people around here have been talking…”

“Well fuck them.”

Will snorted at that. They talked for a little while longer. Will was brought up to the reason he was calling in the first place when Beverly started mentioning a visit.

“Now wouldn’t be the best time, Bev.” Will muttered. “Damn it, why not? I want to ogle your hot boyfriend, and play with your dogs, not to mention tan out on the damned beach!” Will sighed at that, underneath the comical pouting, he could tell she was a little disappointed.

“I’m going to be in North Carolina. I’ll be consulting on a case.”

It got deathly quiet. Will’s heart was pounding worse than when he was about to tell Henry about Hannibal. Beverly spoke quietly. “Did Jack put you up to this?” Will swallowed heavily.

“Yes.”

“Damnit Will! I swear, the next time I see that man… listen, Will. Don’t do this! You only have a few months left, and you can divorce Hannibal, then you’ll be officially free from all of this mess.”

“I know Bev, but it’s too late. I saw the faces! I saw the faces and…It’ll be bad either way. I’ve gotta go. But I’ll be fine. I’m going to make sure more than anything I’ll be okay. I refuse to let another bastard serial killer get the best of me.”

“Well good. I’m going to hold you to that Superman. Goodnight, Will.” Will kindly didn’t mention the watery tone to Beverly’s voice.

“Goodnight, Bev.”

Will emailed Jack that night to tell him he was in. It was petty he knew, but he didn’t want to speak to Jack just yet. The next morning, he was given the address of the base headquarters the FBI was operating from in North Carolina, along with a list of available flights, and hotels that the FBI were willing to pay for. After Will chose, he packed his things and brought Winston in the car with him, along with a few of his toys. He was going to bring Winston over to Henry’s to stay until he got back. Will was already feeling a little down, knowing he was going to be all alone for a while. He isn’t used to it anymore. Looking over at Winston, and Will could tell he was a little peeved with him as well.

“Don’t worry, buddy. I’ll be back soon.” Winston harrumphed in reply.

Despite his protests, Henry demanded that he be the one to take him to the airport. The ride was quiet, but peaceful. He kept the windows rolled down, to let a warm breeze in. Will closed his eyes to take in the salty sea air one last time for a while.

“It might be a while before I’m back.”

“That’s alright.”

“I…. I might be a little different when I get back.” Will spoke this admission quietly, with obvious hesitation. He’d told Henry about his empathy, and a bit of an overview of how it worked for him in the field, but he doubted Henry knew the magnitude of the work he did, and how it affected him. Henry stayed quiet for the rest of the ride, contemplating his words. When they made it to the passenger drop-off area, he finally stopped, and turned to look at Will.

“It’ll be alright, Will. Just remember you’re not them! You’re nothing like those monsters. Just shake it off, okay? I’ll be the same when you get back. And I’ll remind you of who you once were.”

Will smiled at that. He loved how easy Henry made everything seem. He leaned over the console to give him one last, tender kiss. “I’ll hold you to that, carrot top.”

Henry chuckled against his lips, always amused despite himself when Will called him by his childhood nickname.

 

From there, to the plane, to the CLT airport, then to a small local motel was all a blur. Jack had contacted him before his flight, trying to get a feel for when he’d be in. Will kept it vague, certain that he’d want Will in to the Charlotte office immediately, rather than to settle in the motel.

Will laid on top of the too firm bedspread, hands resting on his stomach. Slight trepidation shook him from what was to come, but he waved it off. Though a lot of what he said to the others was filled with bravado, he meant it. He wasn’t going to let this get the better of him. He was going to catch this killer, and save some lives. With that in mind, Will turned over, and closed his eyes to get some sleep, preparing for the next day once again in the role as an FBI profiler.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Everyone! Thanks for all of the kudos, bookmarks, and reviews!! I'll be responding back to all of them after I post the chapter (As usual).  
> I'm pacing myself with this story. I don't want to rush, and end up jumping ahead of all of the set up I want to do. Hannibal and Will are going to be seeing each other verrrrryyyyy soon though.
> 
> Oh, and also to my tumblr folks, If you want to share my story (wink-wink-nudge-shameless-nudge) I'm ABSOLUTELY amendable. My side blog where I share my story and other Hannibal shenanigans is https://www.tumblr.com/blog/queenyoruichi12 !!!  
> *Whispers* There might be a little one-shot giveaway of your choice in prompt if ya do! (I'll post yours too if ya want! WRITERS SUPPORT WRITERS, LET'S GOOOOOO) I'm a little ass writer, with a little ass blog, but I'll support ya! lol okay, I'll shut up now.
> 
> I will be having the next chapter either tomorrow, or within the next two days since I'm already working on it, but after that it might be another week or so. Without further ado, enjoy the next chapter. See y'all next time!

_Hannibal_

_Don’t stop, please_

_Han-_

_Yes, Dr. Lecter_

_Dr. Lecter!_

“Dr. Lecter.”

The first thing Hannibal felt when he stirred was anticipation, which wouldn’t usually be strange. Now, here, in this cell it is without a doubt odd for him. He remained still on his cot for a few moments, making mental assessments. His body, unusually warm, was already cooling down, heart beating at a normal pace. He realized in a few short moments that someone in fact, was calling his name.

“You are here quite early, Clarice. I’m afraid you’ve caught me at a rather vulnerable time.”

He knew it was her before he even stood up. Alana had taken a personal vacation and had been gone for the past five days, and Clarice was the only other woman that bothered to come see him. When he rose from his cot, opting to remain seated on it rather than pace, or stand, he finally looked up at Clarice. She looked unbelievably tired. As if the very air was pressing her shoulders down, eyes taking on a rather dazed look. Harsh bruises had formed under her eyes. Her strawberry-blonde hair was pulled back into a long braid, swinging softly against her lower back. Though tired, she was still beautiful. More than that, her eyes still held that unworldly determination and unrelenting resolve that he had so admired when he first met her.

All the same, he could admit that he was less than thrilled to see her. He’s not sure if it’s because of the ruddy cheeks and stormy blue eyes that had been haunting his dreams as of late, but he wasn’t feeling in the mood to amuse today.

“I’m sorry for the early intrusion, Dr. Lecter. I’ll be catching a flight to North Carolina after this visit, so I will make this brief.”

“Oh?”

He allowed himself to sound rather curious, when in fact he had started to psychoanalyze her in his head.

She pulled out an indulgent grin, he was sure she thought herself to be doing a service for her local lapdog. She’s grown confident of her place in his eyes, softened to the fact that he is a killer, and a very real threat. This place has dulled his claws and fangs considerably.

But they were still there. She’d do well to remember.

“The case that I’d asked you for help with and you’d refused to cooperate on? The Scribe? Does it ring any bells?” She griped good naturedly.

He pursed his lips in mock contrition. “I do seem, to recall now that you mention it. Tell me, is our novice still carving his demons into the flesh of church goers?”

“Yes. That’s why I must go. Jack has found me a partner for this case. I’m heading to meet with them as soon as I land. I suppose this is goodbye for now, Dr. Lecter.”

“Will you be returning soon?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Well if your partner was given by Jack this late in the game, then I imagine they might be a trump card of sorts. A desperate final act. I’m curious to see how this new partner of yours will help form your opinions of this enigmatic killer.”

He continued to pour praise to her subtly, hiding his real motivations thoroughly. His heart had once again picked up pace, like it had for his dream. Even with his hands warm and slick with blood, his heart rate remained steady. In the face of death as well. There seemed to be a common denominator to the state of his usually mute heart. And it appears Jack had found a way to potentially bring that denominator back his way. He persevered.

“Though clever, I imagine they won’t hold a candle to your brilliance, Clarice. Unless it is merely the flame catalyst that ignites your thoughts. I rather think I’d like to see that, bask in it. To be frank, I think I’d grow stale and unbecoming in the absence of our chats for too long. There’s not much left to amuse me Clarice, do you think you could for a while longer?”

He grits his teeth behind his placid mask, determined to see this through. Her indulgent grin became a real, if somewhat stilted smile. He could see that his words had took effect. Her pride shining through in her honey-brown eyes. She’d been doing well in Jack’s eyes with previous cases, and she’s finally leading this one. He can see her desperation to succeed in the very air around her, humming with opportunity.

“You haven’t gotten rid of me yet, Dr. Lecter. I’ll be flying back after a few days with the scene. I’ll see just what this mysterious partner has for me. Goodbye, Dr. Lecter.”

“Bye, Clarice. Do have a wonderful flight, and try to catch some sleep.” He watched as she walked away, long hair swinging to and fro, low heels clicking softly against the marble floors.

After she’d finally gone, Hannibal allowed himself to relax. He pulled himself up to lay with his back against the wall on his bed, in contemplation. He was certain this mysterious partner was his Will. Glee filled him at the very thought. He wondered how this case, combined with the added time for him to wallow in despair has shaped him. A few more crime scenes, several more ‘sessions’ with him, and he’s sure that Will will be broken thoroughly.

What then?

He’d always planned on seeing how far he could take it with Will. Wanted to see how deep into his heart and psyche he could delve before Will finally _saw_ him. Though things hadn’t quite gone as planned, he can now begin what he had started all those years ago.

 

The remaking of Will Graham.

 

 

Will woke up early in his motel room to the sound of his charging phone, vibrating against the end table. He rose slowly, extending his arms up and back, running run hand through his sleep wild hair, and the other under his shirt across his taut stomach, missing the warmth of a lover next to him as he woke. With that thought, Will looked over at his phone and smiled. Then frowned. Highlighted was the standard good morning text that Henry always sent when neither of them could spend the night at the other’s house, or either one of them were away, though up until now, had always only been Henry.

He hurriedly sent one back, sending his regards to their pack, reminding him of Winston’s check-up, and a bit of flirting towards the end. Henry immediately sent one of those emojis in reply, making Will laugh with his antics.

He cleaned up a bit, brushed his teeth and hair, changed into a pair of shorts and a tee, and headed out on his morning jog. A few paces out of his door, and on the sidewalk, he saw a path towards a forest park, and immediately made his way to it, picking up his pace for a brisk run. He fell in love with the crisp, mountain air immediately, inhaling and exhaling with renewed vigor. He cleared his head for the hour he ran, almost forgetting what he had to do later.

The call came while he was in the shower, blaring against the end table once again. Will hurriedly jumped out of the shower, towel wrapped around his waist as he picked up without looking at the screen. He mentally kicked himself when he heard it was none other than Jack Crawford, barking through a greeting and telling him where the crime scene is. Though his usual impatient self, Will could hear underlying worry in his voice. Not the kind that made his hackles rise, misguided concern for Will’s wellbeing. No, this was different. Jack was deliberately not telling him something.

Before, Will would usually stay quiet on it. Allowed it to show itself on his own. Not this time. Jack needed Will, and he’d be damned if he was going to be treated like a child, good for bossing around, but not enough to be told everything to.

“What are you not saying, Jack?”

“What? Will we don’t have time for this. I can only hold this scene for so long, you need to get here, and-”

“-I’m the one that doesn’t have time for this evasive bullshit. I have no obligation to you, I can fly right back home, so I’ll say again, What the HELL ARE YOU HIDING JACK?”

Will’s voice grew progressively louder towards the end, not at a shout, but firm enough to cut Jack off. He spoke each word with precision. Sharp, and sure. This wasn’t going Jack’s way this time.

Silence reigned for a few moments before Jack relented, sighing audibly.

“Though I am overseeing this investigation, explicitly speaking, it’s not my case. You will be working with someone else.”

A sudden, loud knock came to the door. Will’s blue eyes flashed towards it. He grew even more flushed than he was from the shower, anger mounting. He tried to brush his wet hair out of his eyes in vain.

“What the hell, Jack?”

“I know, I know. I’ll be here every step of the way though. Thing is-”

Knock-knock

“They’re kind of the proactive sort and-”

Knock-knock

“-They should be coming-”

Knock-knock-knock

“To meet you there.”

“Yeah, I got that with the way they’re about to bust my damned door down. Bye Jack.”

Will hung up on whatever it was Jack was going to say. He walked to the door retightening his towel around his waist, unlocked and opened it. He’s not giving an inch to whatever agent this is that thinks they can come here, to fetch Will. He opened the door widely, unabashed of his state. The water from the shower had dried on his body for the most part, but was still dripping through his hair. He raised a sardonic brow as he looked on at whoever was there. And froze.

 

Standing there was Clarice Starling, looking just as frozen as Will, hand still in a fist above his door ready to bang on it again. Will couldn’t help it in this situation, he through his head back and laughed. He wiped at his eye, still chuckling, as he pushed himself back against the door to let her in.

“Well come on in, partner. I imagine we have quite a bit of catching up to do.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! This chapter is a lot longer than the others, but I didn't want to break it up, any longer. I'm just as impatient as y'all, and I really want Hannibal and Will to see each other!  
> A little note about the song, It's I know I've been changed. The version I was listening to is: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6LreONqRQLc&ab_channel=JackieBurton
> 
> On another note, I feel the need to explain a lil something. Hannibal DOES love Will. According to Mads, he believes Hannibal fell in love with Will when he first met him. (I take that as canon, because it's King Mads). That being said, Hannibal still did a bunch of fucked up shit to Will before he even admitted that he felt that way. To me, that is because he didn't know it. Rarely, do people analyse everything they do in regards to another person, and internally say "Oh, I'm behaving like this because I actually am in love with them/hate them/etc."
> 
> I didn't add heart felt confessions for Will in Hannibal's mind, because he frankly hasn't realized it yet. Some people (psychopathic cannibals too, probaby idk) don't realize what they have until it's gone. 
> 
> Hope that clears some things up about the direction I'm going with this. Enjoy the next chapter!!!

She walked in slowly, taking him in while trying to not stare outright. Now that Will knew it was her, he closed the door behind him, and hurriedly went to the bathroom to get changed. He already knew Clarice, no need to antagonize. When he came back, she was still standing by the door, standing ramrod straight while looking out the window.

“Coffee?”

She snapped out of her daydream, to look at Will walking towards the little coffee machine on his desk.

“Yes, please. Black, no sugar.”

Silence reigned on in the room once again, as Will started up the coffee machine. He could tell she felt awkward and uncomfortable, but he didn’t let it bother him.

“I’m assuming by the way you looked at me when I opened the door, that you had no idea that I was the one Jack brought to consult on this case.”

Her brown eyes focused on him at that.

“I could say the same of you, Mr. Graham.”

“Just Will, please.” She nodded her head in thanks, and acquiescence when Will turned to hand her a cup. After he poured himself one, she spoke up once again.

“We really should be heading to the scene. They need to process it as soon as possible.”

Will agreed and headed out the door with her. The sun blinded him for a moment. He reached up with one hand to shield his eyes, as he walked around to the passenger side of her rental car. When he got in, putting his coffee in the holder after taking a long sip, he looked up to find Clarice staring at him.

“You look good, Will.”

He scratched the back of his head, ears heating up automatically at the compliment. “Thank you” He grumbled, fumbling with his seatbelt, to avoid looking at her. She continued, as if she didn’t notice his discomfort.

“No, I mean it. You look really well. Even better than before-” She cut herself off suddenly, looking over at him with contrition. Will sighed.

“I’m fine now, honestly. And thank you, really.” He smiled softly to let her know he had no ill will towards her. Her shoulders dropped down with gratitude. She returned the smile, started up the car, and set them off down the road.

The ride was silent, and only vaguely uncomfortable, but Will was okay with that. He didn’t expect that to change.

The silence that unnerved him, however, was the one surrounding the crime scene. All the agents were hovering around the church, they’re discontent for having to wait so long showing on all their faces. Jack was like a beacon of familiar impatience and discontent for Will, drifting out of Starling’s SUV, and right for him.

“As far as crime scenes go, this one’s not that bad, but…” Jack got right into it, once Will was within earshot. Will pushed his fists into his pockets to keep warm. The sun was out, but a chilly breeze still blew and hung around the trees in the morning air. It whipped his hair around his face, drying the last of the damp hair into a wildly curly riot. Will watched silently as Jack continued.

“It’s still unsettling.” Jack’s finish was underwhelming, but what he lacked in adequate words he more than made up for with emotion. His face was distinctly uncomfortable. Something about this case halts Jack, is familiar in a way that only Will can grasp. The ground crunched behind Will softly as Starling made her way towards them.

“Shall we get started then? Let’s go take a look, Will.” Starling stated, already making her way to the small, white wooden doors.

“Clarice, wait! I need Will to go in first.” Her shoulders stiffened at the command. Will sighed internally. There went that tentative camaraderie they’d formed. She whipped her head around retort ready.

“Just let him, Clarice, he needs to see it fresh and alone, and we need to get it processed. Call out to us when you’re ready for us to come in, Will.”

“Alright.” Will didn’t argue. He knew he’d never be able to work effectively if Clarice was standing there, watching him. He walking to and inside the doors without a backwards glance, throwing off the feeling of Clarice’s accusing stare as he made it inside. He took one brief look around the scene, another less brief one, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.

 

A choir could be seen behind Will’s lids, hushed singing could be heard in his ears alone, whispered among the walls of the sanctuary. Will felt the overwhelming urge to sing along. Will opened his eyes once again on the victim. It was a woman, black. He’d already heard speculation coming from Clarice about it being racially motivated considering all the victims had been black up until now, but taking one look, and Will knew it was wrong. He mentally tossed that theory by the wayside, while the forefront of his mind focused on the scene.

This was a revival. Renewal. Will could feel it as certainly as he could feel anything else. The woman was lain prostrate on the alter. She was wearing a long shawl over her neck. Will recognized the pose immediately.

 

_Will was around six or seven when he first met his father’s friend, Reggie. Reggie was a local pastor near the bayou that always came by their boat to buy some crawfish for his church. Reggie was unusual to Will. He was young, black, and handsome. His skin was dark and smooth, and his smile whiter than the marshmallows Will put in his cocoa. He enjoyed beer and football more than Will thought a usual pastor should. All the same, there was an irresistibly comforting air around him. Something that always made people want to be near him._

_He had apparently been trying to get his father to come to church with him ever since they met, and hadn’t given up since. One day, while running a hand towel between his greasy, worn fingers, his father spoke to him about them attending. Will walked up to his dad, small pouting face upturned ready to whine. His father beat him to it, stormy blue eyes just like his looking down at him sternly._

_“Don’t even start, Will. We’re gonna go. Lord knows we could use some Jesus in our lives.”_

_Will couldn’t agree less. He vaguely remembered going with his father and mother before she ran out on them. Church people always treated him like some demon. They never tried to understand him, even as young as he was. His father looked down at him steadily for a few moments, face softening in realization. He kneeled in front of Will, running a hand through his soft curls. His large hand stayed at the back of his head, while his eyes came to Will’s level, looking at him with fondness._

_“I know some of them church folk ain’t no good. But you know Reggie’s different than them. He’s the real deal.”_

_Despite already having no religious inclinations, Will knew his father was right. Reggie never treated Will like that. His father and Reggie were watching a game once, and had been drinking quite a bit. Will was still confused about him, and blurted the first thing from his mouth._

_“I thought god didn’t like people drinking?”_

_Reggie looked on at him, midnight brown eyes taking what he said seriously, despite his age. He knew Will was advanced for his age, and understood things most couldn’t. He smiled. His father looked on with amusement._

_“People don’t like people drinking. And I don’t make it a habit of listening to people, young man. They don’t have a heaven or hell to put me in. You remember that, okay?”_

_Will ended up agreeing with his father, and they both went to church for the first time since his mom left. His father slicked down his own curls, just like his son’s, but golden blonde. He wore what he called his ‘Sunday best’ suit, but was actually his only suit. It was a heavy, navy suit, with a simple striped tie._

_Will used to have a suit that his mother bought him for church, but was much too small for him now. Instead he wore the sky-blue button-down shirt and khaki pants he kept for school. His father had put a bit of pomade on his hair to slick his down as well._

_By the time they made it, the choir was already up, and singing an old hymn. The entire church, save for his father and he were black. The organ was blaring, a young rambunctious teen was beating wildly at the drums, and tambourines were beaten between black and brown hands around the sanctuary._

_His father, Carlisle, scanned the crowd, and found Reggie at the front, sitting in the pulpit with his large, cushioned chair at the center. Reggie had spotted him as well, chocolate eyes lighting up at the sight of him. He remained seated, but waved wildly, dimples spreading with delight._

_A few curious church members looked at them as they took their seats in the pews, but let them be. It was a poor church. The floors were uneven, and the wooden benches used for seating in the pews old. It was a sight different to the large, nondenominational church his mother had made them go to. A lot more welcoming than his mother's church as well.  After the choir had finished, and the offerings were taken, Reggie took his stand at the front of the podium at the center of the pulpit and began his sermon. It was loud and lively, just like Reggie. It got the people up shouting, and dancing in the pews._

_One young woman seemed particularly overwhelmed after the sermon. She kneeled in front of the steps of the pulpit crying and wailing uncontrollably, words unintelligible._

_“Hallelujah! It looks like this precious little lamb is undergoing a change! Can I get an amen? How many of us can shout on the goodness of God CHANGING us?” After Reggie’s proclamation, the choir once again stood, singing the hymn, ‘I Know I’ve been changed.’_

That was the very song perched on the tip of Will’s tongue. He walked around the scene, unaware of the low hum of melodic words pouring out of his mouth.

_I know I’ve been changed_

The doors to the church opened silently.

_I know I’ve been changed_

Will looked on at the young woman’s wrists, deeply cut, with dried blood crusting around the edges.

_I know I’ve been changed_

Behind her deeply coiled dark hair, Will could see a sheen on her forehead. The blessed oil.

_Angel’s in heaven done signed my name_

“I had no idea you had such a lovely voice, Will.”

Will gasped loudly, ripped suddenly from his thought process. Clarice stood at the entrance, face stony, eyes skeptical. Jack whizzed around her from behind, clearly furious.

“I told you to stay behind!” He roared. She lifted her chin defiantly. “I heard his voice from outside, I thought he was calling me.” Even Jack could tell she was lying. Even if she hadn’t known Will wasn’t calling her, she knew when she came in, and deliberately called attention to herself, breaking his focus. Heated and embarrassed at the intrusion, Will snapped.

“This isn’t racially motivated.”

Jack looked intrigued, while Clarice looked incensed. “The perp is specifically targeting African-Americans in churches. How is that not a distinct motivation, and pattern?”

“Because this person is black as well. They more likely than not, grew up in churches just like this. If you look beyond the obvious, there are deeper motivations.”

“Like?” Jack gently prodded, just like old times. _What do you see, Will?_

“This killer wants to change them. I don’t know how he’s picking them, I’m not sure how he decides that. But he wants to… elevate them, somehow. He feels compelled to change them, like this is his life’s work. As if his very soul depends on it. To him? It just might.”

Will could tell Jack was extremely pleased. Clarice again, was not. This was supposed to be her rodeo. Will no longer gave a shit about her tale of woe. He’d have been happy to work behind the scenes, and let her take the credit. He didn’t appreciate how she let her pride get the better of her.

Will walked past her without looking back. Jack pat him on the shoulder, keeping pace.

“Can you come to Baltimore to take a look at the other victims? I just want to make sure we don’t miss anything.”

“Fine, Jack. I need to get back to my motel first, can I hitch a ride with you?” Normally, Will would take this time to fight kicking and screaming at getting more involved. Not this time. He was going to solve this case. Besides that, Will noticed that it was easier to look. He didn’t feel scared, or unnerved. Just determined to see this through. He felt like he owed it to his late father and his friend Reggie to do this.

“Of course.” Jack smiled in gratitude. For once, Will could tell, he truly had Jack’s respect.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“I know, I’m all over the place. I’ll be in Baltimore for about a week, to look at the other victims, and the autopsy reports. Back to Charlotte to look at the old scenes, then perhaps…”

“Perhaps?” Henry intoned.

“Perhaps I’ll be home. I don’t know. I want to hurry and solve this, but I’m having trouble putting it all together. It’s hard to get back into that headspace.”

“Don’t worry hon, you’ll get it. Just don’t let that man run you ragged, okay?”

“I won’t.”

“Where will you be staying?” Henry asked, with a seemingly nonchalant voice.

“Holiday Inn, why?” Will asked, curious.

“No reason. I’ll talk to you later, okay? I’ve got to go. Have a safe flight!”

“…Thanks, bye.” Will looked at his phone after they hung up. Henry was definitely up to something.

“Those leaving for Baltimore, Maryland Flight 180 can go ahead and begin boarding by zones…”

Will looked up from his seat at CLT airport, grabbing his lone bag, and getting in line.

 

When he got off the plane, he immediately caught a taxi back to Holiday Inn, refusing to look around at the familiar streets. When he made it inside to his hotel room, he plopped down, on the bed, barely remembering to toe off his shoes before he laid down. He was asleep nearly as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Will’s eyes opened slowly to the sound of fervent knocking on his door, he looked over at the digital clock, frowning when he saw that it was nearly two in the morning. He sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he got up stiffly from his poor position on the bed to open the door. Strong, warm arms wrapped around his waist immediately.

“Hey, Will.”

“Henry, what are you doing here?” Will looked up at Henry, perplexed at his being there with him.

“I thought you could use a friendly face. And I missed you like crazy. The pack is with my neighbor, don’t worry.”

“So, you flew all the way to Baltimore to see me?” Will whispered, touched.

“Yes. Have you missed me.” Henry whispered back.

“Yes.”

“Wanna let me in and show me?” Henry wiggled his eyebrows, making Will laugh. He sobered up with a coy smile, pulling Henry in, closing the door behind him.

 

Will’s sleep was interrupted later on in the morning, once again. This time it was his phone ringing. He reluctantly pulled himself out of the warm blankets to reach out for it. Henry’s arm tightened around him from behind.

“Ignore it.”

“I’m here for a case, Henry, I’ve gotta get this.” Will looked over at Henry quickly, taking in his wild tuft of red hair against the pillows, bright green eye peeking up at him blearily. Will kissed his sleep warm lips quickly, then answered the phone.

“Hello?”

“It’s me.”

Will rolled his eyes.

“What do you want, Starling?”

“Ouch. Alright, I get it, I was an asshole, and I’m sorry, okay? Listen, Jack told me where you’re staying. I was wondering if I could swing around to get you so we can head over to the lab?”

Will sighed. Might as well get it over with. “Sure, fine.”

“Cool. I’m outside.”

“Well you’re going to have to wait.” Will hung up without waiting for a reply. He ran his hands through his hair, pulling at it agitatedly. He felt Henry moving up against him, pulling his hands away.

“Don’t worry, about it, I’ve got a flight to catch anyway. I just wanted to see you before everything got rolling.” Will looked at the wonderful man next to him, and wondered how he got so lucky.

“Join me in the shower?” Will offered slyly. Henry smirked in response, following him giddily.

Nearly twenty minutes later, Will was outside of the Holiday Inn by the parking lot, freshly scrubbed and clean, hair combed, and face flushed, as he said goodbye to Henry. He knew Clarice was watching from her car parked two down, but he didn’t care. He wrapped his arms around Henry’s neck, kissing him softly. Henry in turn, wrapped his arms around Will's waist, gripping lightly at his white button down, tucked into his black pants. “Get ‘em tiger.” Henry whispered. Will laughed softly. He looked up into his eyes, steeling his own.

“Don’t worry, I will.”

Will waited until he saw Henry ride away in his taxi before he finally walked over to Clarice’s car, and getting in. She stared at him hard, but didn’t say anything, and pulled off.

Will started to feel unsettled when he noticed that they were not going in the direction of the FBI. Looking at Clarice in his peripheral, he could tell immediately that something was off. That look of quiet malice was back in her eyes.

“Where are we going, Starling?”

“I made a promise to someone. I told them I would come visit once I made it back.”

Will’s eyebrow rose at that. “Personal visits couldn’t have waited until after the lab?”

She bristled. “It isn’t personal, it’s for the case. He’s a consultant of sorts too, and promised to listen and help.”

Will recognized the turn she made down the side road, and his heart sank. “Clarice, what-”

“You said it yourself, Will! You can’t figure out how the killer’s choosing them. We need to figure that out, before we can solve anything.”

Will’s mouth dried as she parked at the BSCHI. “I’m not going inside.”

“He’s going to know you’re here. I won’t lie to him. Are you sure you want him to see you as a coward? I mean, you’ve clearly moved on, what’s the worry?” She kept going, trying to sound professional, and reasonable, but Will could see the amusement in her eyes. This was payback for the crime scene. She could’ve easily come to get him after her visit and taken him straight to the lab. She was enjoying this.

Not again. There was no way Will was letting anyone get the better of him. Least of all _him_. He knew he could call a taxi if he wanted, went straight to the lab, told Jack even. He wasn’t going to do either of those things. Not yet anyway. This was his moment of truth. He needed to do this. To see just how much stronger, he’d really gotten. Without delay, Will got out of the car and made his way to the entrance. He vaguely enjoyed the sound of Clarice trying to keep up, grabbing her files, and following him hurriedly.

He and Clarice were once again escorted down the many stairs, and the labyrinth of halls.

 

It was time to face his husband.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah. That's a cliff. Sorry. All the same the moment we've all been waiting for will be coming in the next chapter! Again, this one is going to take a little longer, because I have work, and I also want to get this right. Don't forget to share, reblog and review. Thank y'all!!! See y'all next time!!!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey, the next chapter's here! Not much to say, except, I hope you all enjoy!!!

“Will. Do you hear me Will?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t think you should come back here.”

“That makes two of us.”

“I’m serious, Will. I don’t think… it’s good for you.”

Will looked up from his phone into Alana’s worried blue eyes. He was standing on the sidewalk outside of the BSCHI, waiting on his Ruber driver. Alana was next to him, trying to be a good friend, but being a better psychiatrist. Will attempted giving her a reassuring smile. It was hard to hear her over the blood rushing in his ears, and the pounding of his heart.

“I’m headed to the lab to look at the other victims. Then I’m catching a flight back to North Carolina, and catching this killer. Then… I’m going home. Don’t worry about me.”

Alana looked somewhat mollified, but not completely sold. She was even more intelligent, than she was kind, which was saying quite a lot.

“Unfortunately for me, being the administrator of this hospital means that it isn’t just you I’m worried about here.”

“You mean Hannibal.”

“I’ve never seen him like that.” Alana tried to keep up a brave front, but Will could tell she was scared, something about his behavior spooked her.

He glanced out of the corner of his eye, as his Ruber driver pulled up. He gave her a quick hug, and made his way to the car after he spoke to her one last time.

“Neither have I.”

 

**One hour Earlier**

Clarice hurried up behind him, catching up, and ahead of him. Will didn’t really care. He wasn’t exactly in a rush to see his face again. The guard escorting them gave him a curious glance, but luckily stayed quiet. Before Will could turn the corner to the hall that held the double doors to Hannibal’s room, he was intercepted.

“Jack told me you were in Europe.”

Alana smiled briefly. “I was. For my honeymoon, actually.”

Will raised his brows in surprise. “Oh wow, um. Congratulations! Who’s the lucky guy?”

“ _Her_ name’s Margot.” Alana’s blue eyes twinkled. She looked endlessly amused at Will’s mistake. Will’s cheeks burned hotly with embarrassment. Just then, he heard the electric sound of doors opening, and looked around to notice both the guard and Clarice were gone. She must have just gone inside Hannibal’s room. Will sighed reluctantly.

“I’d love to stay and chat about your love life, but I’ve got to go make a visit.”

Alana’s smile vanished. She pushed her shoulders back, loose curls bouncing forward, spilling over her shoulders. “That’s what I’m here to talk to you about.”

“Alana, please.”

“No, Will! You’ve clearly been doing so well, you look amazing! This is not a good thing for you. Surrounding yourself with the very person that caused your trauma could cause irreparable damage to your mental health!”

Will closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. When he opened them, and saw Alana’s eyes were truly only concerned for his well-being, he calmed his tongue.

“I’m not a victim, Alana. Not anymore. Besides that, I must go. I have to prove to myself that I can do this, and I’m truly okay. Besides that, Clarice very kindly informed me that she will tell him that I am here.”

Alana listened patiently until the end, eyebrows raising with anger by the time he was finished.

“She blackmailed you? That is unbelievable, just wait until Jack hears about this…” Alana fumed to herself. Will almost told her not to worry about it, to not bother telling Jack, until he saw a flash of what Jack’s fury at Clarice would look like. He shrugged. No one made her act like an asshole, he figured. That’s her problem. His, was a few feet away, behind those double doors.

“I’ve gotta go now, Alana.”

Alana snapped her head up at that, clearly still pissed off.

“I’ll be watching in my office.” Will nodded, and noticed that she was still waiting. He realized with a rush of warmth, that she was going to stand there watching him go, until he made it inside. He gave her a small, genuine smile, as he walked away, happy that they’d patched things up, and already imagining having her and her wife over in Florida to meet Henry and the golden girls along with Winston. Those happy thoughts carried him over, until he made it to the double doors, nodding at the guard to open them.

His feeling of warmth, tentative hope and anticipation for the future fled when both doors opened, showing him the inside of the lion’s den once again.

Clarice was near the glass, in the middle of sharing her theory of the case, still holding onto the racial motivation, and religious cult theories. Hannibal was seated at his desk, sketching on his soft paper, nodding idly, until he heard the doors open, and looked up. Clarice had stopped talking as well. It was so quiet, that even from where he was standing, Will could hear Hannibal’s breath hitch. Clarice looked vaguely surprised. Hannibal’s face was…unreadable.

Will walked in slowly, allowing all the exercises and tricks he’d learned come into action, exuding confidence. When he made it to the center of the room, he finally looked up, and into Hannibal’s eyes. Hannibal stood just as slowly, placing his soft pencil down, and walking around his desk, not taking his eyes off Will for even a moment. He mirrored Will’s position from his side of the glass, though he was much closer to it. Clarice broke the silence.

“Yeah, this is the partner Jack was talking about. Small world, huh, Dr. Lecter?”

Hannibal didn’t visibly respond. He just continued to drink Will in, looking him over, again and again. Will didn’t particularly like the feeling, almost like he was the one on the inside of the glass, being gawked at like a zoo animal. He decided to cut the bullshit.

“Hello, Hannibal.” There really wasn’t a point in calling him Dr. Lecter. Legally, he was still a Lecter too. No point in giving him ammo to tease him.

Hannibal finally came back to the here and now. He gazed at Will intensely. “Hello, William.”

Clarice looked back and forth, uncertainly.

“I believe you told me I’d never see you again. That was a bit of what they call a mic-drop, wasn’t it? Yet hear you are.” Hannibal smiled widely, showing off his sharp canines, clearly for some reason, delighted at this turn of events.

“Believe me, it was never my intention to recant. All the same, you’re here, I’m here, let’s just move on, and do what we came here to do.”

Hannibal tilted his head in curiosity. Will used to think it was adorable, reminding him of Winston. Now it was just maddening.

“And what exactly is that?”

Clarice butted in. “We want to know what you think about this case, Dr. Lecter.”

Both Will and Hannibal looked at her then, almost forgetting she was there. Will noticed she looked more than a little peeved. That increased when Hannibal immediately looked from her back to Will with a smile.

“What more could you want from me? Did the both of you not already get that this Scribe, is a radically religious nationalist? Targeting Black American’s that don’t deserve to share in his beliefs?” Will snapped his head back to Hannibal, locking eyes once again. He was goading Will. He knew that wasn’t true, and wasn’t what Will believed either. Will decided to play along.

He tilted his chin up slightly, raising one of his brows. “Unfortunately, Agent Starling and I, are of differing opinions. I believe this killer, this man, is not targeting black people because he is racist. Most murders are committed against people of the same cultural background as the killer. He most likely is black himself, and grew up in a church much like the ones he is targeting. He lays them at the altar, and…changes them somehow. He wants to elevate them.”

One look at Hannibal’s proud smile, and he can tell, that Hannibal agrees.

“Beautifully said, as always, Will. What is it that you need from me?”

Will knew it’d be a waste of time, running with Clarice’s theory. Hannibal would just toy with them, in that mocking way, pretending he agreed with everything she said, while giving nothing substantial in return. Will sighed, running a hand through his curls, and holding on to the ends at the back of his neck, gripping them tightly. He noticed, somewhere in the back of his mind, as they flopped forward, and covered his eyes, that they were once again getting too long.

“The victims. How is he choosing them?”

Hannibal’s gaze sharpened on Will, following the movement of his hair with his eyes. When he spoke again, it had a slightly distracted tone.

“I have slight theories based on what I’ve heard, but little beyond that. May I see the file?”

Will released his curls, and with the same hand, gestured towards Clarice, as she opened the file to look it over again, he walked towards her, as Hannibal did on the other side as well, waiting for the file by the food chute. Will briefly looked over her shoulder at the file, noting some dates and times that he’d overlooked when he was skimming it. He had eidetic memory, and had already memorized the pictures behind his eyelids, but hadn’t taken the time to completely read through the file.

Clarice opened the chute on her end, and quickly shoved the file through and closed it. By that time, Will was behind her, already crossing to the other side of the room once again. Will faintly heard Hannibal deeply inhale through his nose behind him, but ignored it. He heard Hannibal slowly flip through the file, pacing across the floor, completely silent all the while.

“This killer is young. Methodical, though still inexperienced.” Hannibal intoned softly. Something in his voice sounded odd to Will. Odd enough to make him turn around to look at him. He inhaled quickly.

Hannibal was no longer looking at the file, but right at him. Will wondered if he’d even looked at it at all. He couldn’t look away from his eyes. Will had noticed, while dating Hannibal, and then even more so when married to him, that his eyes tended to look darker than they actually were, because of how deep set his eyes are, more of a dark brown than the light cognac, with flecks of reddish brown in the center. Right at that moment, his eyes looked black. Hungry. His nostrils were still slightly flared. He smiled again, though this time, it looked a lot less friendly and delighted. Will couldn’t for the life of him figure out what caused such a drastic change in his demeanor.

If he really tried, delved deep with his empathic gifts, he was sure he could sift it out, but at the moment, whatever was ticking Hannibal off wasn’t his issue. Finding out how to find this killer, and prevent more from being killed was.

“You were right, Will. He most likely is a Black American male, residing in North Carolina, but not necessarily from there. He…is trying to elevate these, otherwise mundane lives. He sees something in these sheep that makes him want to turn them into a higher being. He more than likely likens himself to be an artist, or an agent of the lord. Sound familiar?”

Will jolted a bit at that. Clarice was looking back and forth between the two, clearly sensing that the conversation had gone out of her depth. Will wasn’t sure where Hannibal was going with this, but he was certain he wasn’t going to like it. “No, it doesn’t, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me.” Will crossed his arms as he said this, staring him down. Hannibal had a smirk on his face, clearly confident that he had the upper hand in the situation. He was certain he could still get under Will’s skin.

“It’s nothing more than I was trying to do by courting you. I was even kind enough to leave that soft, lovely skin of yours unmarred, though now I feel that I quite regret that.”

Will ignored that last bit though something about his tone bothered him. He unconsciously began to rub his hand across his clean shaven jaw, wishing he'd left some stubble. Wishing even more that Hannibal would stop looking at him so hard.  His heart started beating faster in his anger. He could feel his skin flushing, his cheeks certainly growing red with his resentment. He made sure to keep his voice level, to not let Hannibal see just how pissed off he was. Instead he gave Hannibal a big smile, shaking his head slowly.

“Oh, don’t give me that! You _courted_ me, because you knew you had EVERY reason to worry about me. I am good at what I do. You wouldn’t have wasted your breath if I wasn’t. If you hadn’t been in my bed, then you damned well would’ve ended up in my handcuffs. Unfortunately for you… You should’ve paid more attention to Ms. Lass than of me.”

Will walked closer to the glass, unheeding of Clarice’s stern stare. Hannibal proceeded to walk closer as well, jaw clenched tight, while his body remained deceptively loose.

Let me tell you about the current situation. In case you forgot. You’re here, in prison, because you LOST. And you’re gonna rot here. And in a few weeks, there won’t be a damned thing in the world that connects me to you, name included. This case, WITH OR WITHOUT you will be solved. And I’ll be home, away from you for good this time.”

Will was breathing heavily by the time he finished. He nearly mentioned Henry, but recalled himself. His heart beat refused to slow. Hannibal appeared to be breathing just as heavily, panting slightly.

“And where, pray tell, is this home, Will? Somewhere sunny, to be sure. You’ve gotten quite the tan. And those lovely curls have gotten a bit lighter in the sun. You even have a few, darling freckles. I seem to have forgotten how truly stunning you are, William. I can practically smell the sun and sand on those clothes of yours.”

Will startled at that. He was speaking calmly. His voice was so incredibly soft, he felt himself leaning closer despite himself to the glass to hear better. His eyes looked reflection less. There was something about what he said, that was bothering Will. Some piece of info that was niggling at the back of his skull.

Hannibal inhaled deeply again, flaring his nose dramatically. He looked up at Will, nearly snarling.

“That is not all I smell, dear husband of mine. Tell me, when did you finally take a lover?”

Clarice was shifting from foot to foot, battling the various emotions that were telling, Will could even sense it from the corner of his eye. She clearly wanted to hear Hannibal tear Will a new one, though she didn’t like how entirely she had been disregarded. How easily. She was debating whether she should leave or not.

Will looked up at the ceiling, pretending to count the time. In his head, he was berating himself for forgetting about Hannibal’s keen sense of smell. When he looked back down from the ceiling, and to Hannibal, he saw that he’d gotten his breathing back under control, though he still looked…wild.

“About half a year now? It’s really none of your business, Hannibal. We are legally separated and will be divorced in a few weeks’ time. It’s not like any of this was real, now was it?”

It was Hannibal’s turn to look surprised. “What do you mean by that?”

“We really need to get back to what we came here for…” Clarice finally found her voice again, though it trembled slightly. Will, for once, was thankful for her presence.

“She’s right. This is going nowhere. Do you, or do you not know how he is choosing them?”

Hannibal remained silent. It was as if him and Clarice hadn’t spoken at all. Will reigned in another sigh.

“I meant that you don’t love me. Clearly. Obviously.” Hannibal tilted his head.

“Is it?”

“Yes!”

“How?”

Will gaped at him. Was he being serious? “How evil you’d been to me from the moment you were found out wasn’t obvious enough? You mean every lie you told me wasn’t clear? Your ENTIRE motivation for our life together was selfish gain, it had nothing to do with-”

“That is what you choose to tell yourself to make being away from each other easier. You’d rather believe that everything we shared was a lie, than that the man you loved was taken away from you. And you wanted him back, despite what you’d learned. Just as you lie to yourself about the thrill you get every time you peer into the minds of killers. It’s a façade, Will. Is that what this sheep of a man, has cultivated in you? To feel shame for what you desire? For who you are?”

Will laughed humorlessly. “Do you really believe that _I_ will ever believe anything you say? Because I won’t.”

“Will, I-”

“HOW IS HE CHOOSING THEM?”

Hannibal sniffed, looking off to the side. Will recognized that look as when Hannibal is thoroughly displeased with events. He looked back, impish delight creeping back into his eyes, light and reflective once again.

“It seems that is something you will have to discover for yourself, dear William. Among other things.”

Will inhaled one last time, and about-faced, walking to the doors.

“When you start thinking about me…”

Will snorted.

“And I once again infiltrate your dreams, as I once did when you began to desire me all those years ago…”

Will reached the doors, urgently pressing the button to be released.

“Try your hardest not to scream my name, when with him. It’s most impolite.”

Will nearly growled at Hannibal’s gall. He’d clearly regained his good humor. He seemed to not be worried about this goodbye. Will refused to ponder on why. As soon as the doors opened, he was darting out of them. Despite how angry Hannibal had made him, he knew immediately that he’d done better, that he is better.

 

Will went from the lab straight to the airport. He found no reason to linger in Baltimore. He’d make it to Charlotte around 8 or 9pm, find a little motel, catch a few zzz’s, and then get back to work. Though all he really got from Hannibal was confirmation, and a headache, something had been reopened in him. Just a few moments with him had gotten Will’s mind turning in its old ways, connecting thoughts and patterns the way he used to.

Will continued to go go go, mind blissfully blank as he went through TSA checks, and airport lobbies, until he was finally back in North Carolina, checking into the same motel he was in before. It wasn’t until the lights were off, and he was in bed, that Hannibal’s words floated back to him.

_…And I once again infiltrate your dreams, as I once did when you began to desire me all those years ago…_

Will pounded on his pillow roughly, fluffing it out and burying his face in it.

Just one more thing Will refused to think about.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't C R A Z Y about how this turned out, per se, but I don't hate it. (Hopefully y'all don't either, lol.) Things will be heating up both inside and outside the case pretty soon. Tell me ya theories on how The Scribe chooses his vics, if ya want. I love hearing y'all's thoughts on how the story will progress, a good portion of ya got it right about this chapter! Don't forget to subscribe and leave some kudos if ya haven't already. See you later, Fannibals!!!!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is quite short, just under two-thousand words, but I felt that I needed another with Hannibal's POV. I am currently working on the next chapter, but I didn't want to merge both, since it's different pov's, and styles and allat. It took a bit longer than I wanted, but this new night shift is kicking my ass, lol. For those of you wondering, Clarice's chapter will be coming soon. I know some are at least vaguely curious about why she's so different from the books/movies.
> 
> a.k.a, an ASSHOLE.
> 
> Also, I'll place it in the tags, but just as another warning, This chapter has a passing mention of suicide. It's only two sentences, but I want to be safe.
> 
> Enjoy the next chapter, fannibals. I'll see y'all with another chapter real soon.

He was _so_ close.

That’s what bothered him the most, surprisingly enough.

It wasn’t being incarcerated, (minor hiccup, in the grand scheme of things), nor was it their rather disastrous falling out, (He may have overdone it a bit). It was the fact that, before getting arrested, he was _so_ close to getting Will to understand. To _see_.

It was fall when he began whispering sweet nothings about beauty in death and decay. Befitting of the season, when all things unnecessary withered away from one’s life force. He’d spend the evenings with Will in front of the fire after dinner. The dogs would be in their room, retired for the night after a hearty meal and night stroll. Will would be his captivated audience of one.

Sometimes when he allows himself to indulge, Hannibal will enter that room in his mind palace, recalling the euphoric way he felt when those gorgeous, blue eyes were on him. The way Will would gaze at him with both uncertainty and reverence, while he got his mind turning.

It was nearing the end of winter when the chrysalis began to crack. Every time Will had a new case, or a new victim to look at, he’d run home to Hannibal after work, panting and flushed, both fearful and excited. Hannibal cultivated the latter, reassuring Will that it was more than alright, healthy, even. Will would curl his tight, warm body around Hannibal’s whispering his name over and over like a prayer. His eyes had a different cast to them then. Something both beautiful, and sinister was forming behind them. Will was beginning to understand. Hannibal would pin him to the mattress with equal fervor and devotion. His beautiful, darling William was nearly ready to emerge.

He'd been caught up in a moment of self-congratulation, a brief period of what an old friend of his would call whimsy, when it all fell apart.

It was before spring could fully take root. Before the new buds could form when everything went to hell. It’d been a particularly brutal case, with an unsatisfying end. The killer had a vendetta against a certain type of man. It was something about the rough callused hands, and curly blonde hair of the victims that called to Will, had him thirsty for blood. He wanted more than anything, to kill one Vivian Crosby, the woman, that took it upon herself to seduce, drug, and then maim these blonde haired, blue eyed, working class men that reminded her of her late, philandering husband.

Hannibal surmised that it had less to do with Vivian, or the victims, than it did their similarities to Will’s father. Despite all that Will had confessed to Hannibal in the safety of their home, in the dead of night, his father remained a mystery. The only reason Hannibal even knew what his father had looked like, was because of an old photo of the both of them that fell out of one of Will’s boxes, as he was moving in with Hannibal.

It was of Will and his father, in front of their boat. Will was beaming from ear to ear, wild hair drenched and covering his eyes, while he proudly held up a huge fish. His father stood beside him with his hand on Will’s shoulder, smiling a half-smile exactly like Will’s directly at the camera.

Hannibal could tell immediately that it was from him, that Will received both his introverted nature, and beauty. He was almost an exact replica of his father, except his father seemed to be naturally more tan than Will, and had golden blonde hair. Hannibal picked it up after having a good look, and handed it to Will. The look on Will’s face was completely unreadable. Hannibal never saw the photo again.

It was during the time after the Vivian Crosby case, that Hannibal was sure that he’d finally gotten Will to see. Vivian had killed herself via cyanide before she could be brought to justice. Will fumed silently for days, nursing a glass of scotch instead of going to bed. Hannibal would come stand behind him, running his fingers through his curls while he continued to whisper:

_“What would you have done, if she hadn’t killed herself?”_

_“What would you ask her?”_

_“Do you think you would have done it yourself?”_

_“Would you have made her feel the pain she made those innocent, hard-working men feel?”_

Usually when Hannibal would ask these ‘purely hypothetical’ questions, Will would quickly reject it, saying that as long as justice was served, it didn’t matter. That justice for the victims was all he wanted. It came much slower that night. In fact, it didn’t come at all. Instead, Will sighed into his cup, while he took one last gulp, emptying it in one go. He looked up at Hannibal, skin appearing to glow and eyes looking a piercing green under the firelight. Careful, to not untangle Hannibal’s hand he tilted his head up, until their eyes were locked.

“Would you think ill of me, if I said yes?”

“Never.”

“Tell me why?”

Hannibal then pressed his face into Will’s curls, willing his traitorous heart to slow. How could he tell him? What were the words that would make Will understand just how much he wanted everything Will craved?

“Sometimes I think the law is too lax. Even if she hadn’t committed suicide, she would have merely ended up in a hospital for the criminally insane. She’d get three square meals, therapy, and light daily workouts. She’d receive pills, and a warm, clean bed. All for brutally murdering seven, innocent men. Where is the justice in that?

“I believe that if you told me you wanted to take her life, then that would be more than normal. I’d say it is just.”

Hannibal knew these words had appealed to Will greatly. Hannibal surmised, that Will may enjoy killing, but may never not kill in the name of justice. He was okay with that.

“I’m not sure…that’s the only reason.” Will looked away from him then, and into the fire. Hannibal could tell that Will didn’t want to go any further that night. Hannibal kissed him atop his head one last time, and went to bed.

The next day, Hannibal was arrested.

As complex as Hannibal wish it was, he’d simply forgotten that he’d scheduled a follow-up appointment with one Miriam Lass, for her to return his journals. In consequence, he was too late to herd her away from his office, and she saw his wound man drawing. He’d been in his office, earlier that morning, cleaning out one of his sketch books, when Will had called him, excited that he’d finally learned how to make Huevos High Life. Hannibal hurried back home, with a smile, to the image of a frankly disastrous kitchen, and a victorious Will.

They’d eaten, Hannibal pleasantly surprised, and proud of how well Will had mimicked his dish. Hannibal was right in the middle of complimenting his little chef, arms around his waist, resting his chin on Will’s shoulder while he washed the dishes. Hannibal had time for one more, soft kiss against Will’s jaw, before they were swarmed.

 

Looking back, Hannibal wished he’d pushed for more that night. He was sure that was the moment that Will was truly on the precipice. More than anything… he wishes he hadn’t said anything. From hindsight, he began to wonder. How would Will have behaved, if Hannibal stayed the same? If he continued to be a loving, understanding husband, throughout his arrest and trial. Will would’ve surely been conflicted. If he was being honest with himself, he isn’t completely sure why he didn’t. Maybe it was a preemptive strike. Perhaps he was afraid of what he was going to see in Will’s eyes when he looked again.

Hannibal sat up on his bed, in contemplation.

_“…You don’t love me.”_

_“…there won’t be a damned thing in the world that connects me to you...”_

_“In the end, accepting that you don’t love him… that you never truly did, was the easiest thing in the world for him.”_

Hannibal wasn’t sure why those words Beverly had spoken to him came back now. Perhaps he should’ve paid closer attention. His heart rate picked up once again when he recalled that stench on Will.

He’d been completely sidetracked. Will, was standing before him. Though, he’d had his suspicions on who Clarice’s partner was, he didn’t think he’d be seeing Will again so soon.

The fact that Will was not only doing well, but thriving, admittedly stung, though he couldn’t dwell for too long. His hair had grown out again, hanging above his eyes, taking the years off of his already youthful face. He was clean shaven, something Hannibal had never seen, save for an old picture of him in uniform back in his days as a cop in New Orleans. He stood as close to the glass as he dared, itching to reach through the glass and touch his skin. He’d clearly been eating well, and exercising frequently, perhaps even more so than he did before, if the way he filled out his clothes were any indication. His stormy blue eyes popped against his darker skin. He was…sexy. The young Ganymede he remembered from all those years ago.

Seeing him again, lit a fire in Hannibal. He’d been caught up in a routine. His claws and fangs had dulled. That must’ve been why Clarice had the gall to toy with him as she has. Why Will felt he could dangle himself with that swine’s stench all over his body and feel no worry, Why Alana reprimanded him, threatened him like some cur that she must look after.

Hannibal began to increase his daily exercise routines. It wouldn’t do well to grow soft in here. His appetite returned, though it certainly wasn’t for the bland hospital food. A composition sat in his eardrums, the notes and stanzas behind his eyelids, ready to be made.

 

He was starving.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was such a bitch to finish, and it's hardly over 2k.... *sighs* A few things to mention:
> 
> -Henry's dogs' are named Sadie and Pearl. I accidentally called one of them Sally. *deeper sigh*  
> \- The next chapter is going to partially be Clarice's POV. I know all of you are SO excited, lmao.  
> _ Shit's gonna hit the fan. Like, REAL fast in the next couple of chapters. You've been warned, lol.

For the life of him, Will could not stop crying.

He’d breathe in, trying in vain to control himself, but the tears continued to flow.

“What did you do?”

“I tried to give him a damned haircut. Now, he’s giving me that legendary Graham stank-eye, and I’m scared to fall asleep. Look at him!”

Will’s hysterical laughter increased at the reluctant admittance coming from Henry. He was sitting up in his motel room after a long day of traveling with Jack to the local churches for routine questioning. There hadn’t been another victim since the last, so Will, and as a result, the rest of the F.B.I., were stuck in the waiting game.

Jack liked to bring Will into the middle of the action, right to a crime scene, to reconstruct it. He’d look at the scene, look at the vic, and would create a tentative, but accurate profile of the killer. Ideally, Will would then at the lab or even on the scene would connect the dots and have the killer in handcuffs before the next body turned up. When that didn’t happen, Jack had to be reminded that they are still officers of the law, and still have to on occasion follow protocol, so they would then take a step back and question the neighbors and friends of the victims.

Since that had already been done, they’ve, under Will’s advice, expanded their questioning to churches around the area and cities that have not been hit. That is what they had been doing all day in Charlotte, before Jack finally let everyone go, to get some sleep, just to be back at it again, bright and early the next day in Winston-Salem.

Will had just gotten into bed, after a well needed shower, when he received a skype call from none other than Henry. That’s how he ended up like this, keeled over in bed, wiping tears from his eyes, howling with laughter, as Henry regales him about his woes.

“I mean, he really, REALLY needed a haircut! He was starting to look like Chewbacca. Do you know what it’s like to wake up for a glass of water, and see Chewbacca scratching his head in the dark? I do.”

When Will could finally breathe properly, he sat up in bed, readjusted his laptop, and said, “No I understand. Hell, I need one too,” he pulled at his curls while he said this, watching for a moment how they stretched passed his forehead, all the way down his face, and passed his chin. When he released it, it bounced right back, in front of his eyes. He heard Henry chuckle in response.

“You look five.”

“Shut up! Bring back Winston, damn it.”

Henry obliged. Winston took a moment to sit down long enough to focus, but once he heard Will’s voice, he went nuts. Henry had to hold him down, to prevent him from bowling over the laptop.

“Hey, boy! Ah hell, look at that fur. What did that evil ginger do to you?” Will joked. Behind Winston, he could see Henry’s green eyes flashing, his deadpanned expression making Will laugh all over again. Once Henry got Winston to settle he left the living room, to the bedroom to talk in peace. When Henry lifted the camera again, his position mirrored Will’s exactly, back against the headboard, with the faint light from his bedside lamp lighting up his face, smoothing over his crow’s feet, and wind chaffed skin.

“I can’t lie. Seeing how good you look right now makes it very difficult to not be home with you right now.” Will intoned. He could see how his admission affected Henry, seeing his chest rise and fall a little more rapidly.

“So, solve the case, man. And get back home to me.” There was silence for a while, both seemingly reluctant to speak. They just looked at each other for a moment, and it was enough.

“How are the girls?”

Henry came back to himself at that, smiling softly. “They’re good, babe. They’re good. As mischievous as ever. How are you?”

Will felt shards of ice slosh painfully in his stomach, even as he smiled warmly back. He should’ve known he was going to ask that next, did in fact, when he answered the skype call. He’d intended to have a sort of phone sex call, but got sidetracked by Henry’s barber adventure with Winston. Now, there was no escape.

Over the past several days, while traveling with Jack all over North Carolina, Will had thought about what he would say to Henry when he spoke with him again. Should he tell him that he saw Hannibal again? Should he mention –

_…And I once again infiltrate your dreams, as I once did when you began to desire me all those years ago…_

Will barely refrained from shuddering violently. He’d been in almost a constant state of guilt and disgust. Sure enough, that very night, after having seen Hannibal, he had a dream. Not a nightmare, a dream. A fucking wet dream. It quickly became a nightly occurrence.

Rather it started with them at the BSCHI, or at home, or even at the opera where they first met, it always ended in the same way: Will against some surface, while Hannibal pounded into him, whispering sweet, filthy nothings into his ear, and Will waking up hard, pulsing, and leaking against his stomach, back arched, and panting hoarsely, barely refraining from touching his scorching flesh.

Will had never understood himself and his mind less than he did now. What more did that man have to do to him, for these feelings to leave? Why would his mind bring these images to him now?

“I’m good too, Henry. Just missing you.” Henry beamed at that, said his goodnights, and disconnected. Will sat staring at his reflection in the laptop for moments longer. He felt another intense bout of guilt and self-loathing hit him again. It wasn’t a lie. He really did miss Henry. He missed the sand, the humid Floridian heat, and their dogs. But underneath all of that, there was a quiet yearning. A longing that stretched over his ligaments, and through his veins, seizing his heart.

It could be for his new life.

Maybe Beverly.

Surely it was the shed. His fishing?

Perhaps…his father? (Will let his mind shut down that thought immediately, refusing to go further)

That only left…

_“…You’d rather believe that everything we shared was a lie, than that the man you loved was taken away from you. And you wanted him back, despite what you’d learned…”_

“NO!” Will roared, flipping his laptop off his lap and to the floor, unheeding and uncaring of the faint crack he heard. He shot out of bed, sleep the furthest thing from his mind, as he began to pace, his mind working furiously. He crumpled to the ground, knees cracking against the hard motel floor, breathing coming faster. His eyes stung, as he licked his rapidly drying lips. He let out a broken sob, letting the panic attack wash over him, for once not fighting it.

 

The FBI continued their manhunt with fruitless door-to-door questioning. Jack’s mood, already foul from the lack of results, soured further after he learned of the stunt Clarice Starling pulled at the BSCHI. Will didn’t think he’d actually get to witness the blowout, but was glad he got to see it. Jack had pulled Clarice to the side, when they had made it to the next church they were visiting, in Greensboro. Will had already been off to the side, going over the layout of the church, like he had with each they visited, trying to see if the connection with how they were chosen had anything to do with the structure itself. He stopped when he heard the low, angry voice of Jack nearby.

“Do you want to tell me what the hell you think you were doing, when you decided to jeopardize this investigation, by ANTAGONIZING Will Graham?”

“Sir, I-”

“Do you want to tell my WHY of ALL PLACES you thought it a good, sound, and professional idea to put him in the same room as his ex-husband?”

“Well, they’re still-”

“I didn’t ASK YOU TO SPEAK.”

The silence Jack wielded was just as powerful as his voice. Will didn’t allow himself to feel flattered for Jack coming to his defense. He’s only upset because he thinks Will is going to become “too broken” again, and won’t be able to solve the case. He couldn’t care less about how Will is actually doing. Not when there’s a case to be solved, and lives saved.

“You are no longer leading this case. Will, is going to continue to consult, and you MAY help find evidence, strengthen the profile, and process the scene. As far as solving this case goes… that will no longer be your privilege.”

Clarice looked a mixture of thoroughly chastised, mortified, angry, and defiant. Will could tell that she still believed that she would find a way to solve the case anyway. Will waited until both Jack and Clarice walked away, before he came from his spot behind the tiny church, into the open field, where a few church-goers were still being questioned. It was in that moment, that Will noticed something the aroma of something both heavenly and familiar wafting through the air.

The crawfish.

Will followed the scent to a small shed that the church must use for dining after the service. He silently crept inside to find a young man, with cornrowed hair stirring a pot with vibrant, red crawfish and corn on the cob. He looked up when he saw Will enter.

“I’m sorry officer. I didn’t want the food to burn. These kids been looking forward to a plate all day.”

Will immediately noticed the New Orleans accent and responded in kind. He stayed relaxed, smiling softly.

“You’re the Miss. Lorraine’s son, right?”

The young man brightened when he heard Will’s similar accent, relaxing as well. He nodded his head as he kept stirring, dark eyes sparkling.

“I just spoke to her and your maw-maw. She mentioned y’all only been here for 2-3 years. Ever been visited by anybody?”

The man’s demeanor changed. Though he continued to stir, his eyes looked haunted.

“What’s your name, sir?”

“Will Graham. Yours?”

“Leon-Jia DeBaillion, but you can call me Lj.”

Will nodded in acquiescence. Lj continued.

“Well Mr. Graham, I gotta say. I think our church is gonna get hit next.”

Will’s heart jumped at that. He walked closer to the young man, trying to project calm, all the while his blood raced.

“A man’s been coming around. He said he been visiting a few churches ‘round here to see where he fits, ya know what I mean?”

Will effortlessly slid into the lingo. Even if he didn’t have his empathy, he had real experience in Christianity in African-American churches.

“He’s figuring out which to make his permanent church home, right? Which one has the right covering for him?”

The young man nodded emphatically, clearly trusting Will completely now, with everything he needed to say. Will could tell this must have been torturing this young man for a while.

“No one else believes me, certainly not my mama or maw-maw. That man done put a gris-gris on my church family, man.”

Will got a chill at that. Gris-gris is a sort of voodoo spell he’d heard about all the time as a kid back in New Orleans. Though he’d never been particularly superstitious, or spiritual on any level, he couldn’t help but react to this young man’s obvious fear and despair.

“What is his name, Lj? We need to at least question him. I won’t discount what you say, and I won’t leave here without making sure y’all are safe.”

Lj looked at him contemplatively.

“Ya know, in Sunday School, we were learnin’ about King David. I think you remind me of him.”

Will tried to contain his snort but couldn’t. “You mean the guy that had a man killed to cover up sleeping with said man’s wife?”

Lj laughing at that startled Will into laughing himself. They stayed like that, in friendly, companionable silence for a few moments, before Lj spoke again.

“Nah, before that. Back when he was just a shepherd. You go after these killers, yeah?”

Will nodded his head in agreement. “More or less, yeah.” He left out that he’s no longer an actual agent. No need to bog him with personal details.

“That’s just like David. He was scared, and it was hard, but he took down Goliath…. I believe you Mr. Graham. I believe you gon take down our Goliath.”

Before Will could respond, Lj finally turned down the heat on the pot, and set out of the shed, presumably to get the church kids. Will walked out of the shed slowly, pondering Lj’s words.

As nice as the sentiment was intended to be, Will decided he didn’t want to be like David.

He clearly got a taste for killing more than giants later on in his life.

 

Will wondered if Lj saw that in him too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it isn't completely obvious by now..... yeah I'm black, lol.
> 
> I loved every single thing (EVERY GOTDAMNED THING) about Hannibal from Bryan Fuller's POV. He added SO many amazing people of color and women to an originally predominately white-male cast (not saying there's anything wrong with the original, I love the books, lol.)
> 
> That being said, I sort of always wanted to see Will using his empathy to identify with a killer that wasn't a white mid- 30's-40's man. Will himself already fits that category, lol. I just always thought it'd be interesting to see Hugh Dancy use those amazing acting chops by delving into a completely different killer, culturally. So...... yeah!  
> Thanks again to all the amazing support for this story. It seriously motivates me to do better.
> 
> Any guesses as to how any of this is gonna play out? And what the hell is Hannibal up to?  
> Find out next time on, (omg I'm so sorry I'll shut up now, lol)
> 
> See ya later Fannibals!


	11. Chapter 11

_“Does it upset you that he’s better?”_

_“A bit better than that, Clarice.”_

“Where’s Will?”

Jack looked up at that. He and the rest of the team, including Clarice were back at their temporary headquarters in Charlotte. After a long, monotonous day of questioning, and other procedures, Clarice noticed at some point Will had disappeared. After having just been chewed out by Jack, Clarice left it alone, though her curiosity burned at her. She decided a few hours should be plenty of time for him to cool down, and for her to get her answers. Especially since everyone was supposed to meet back at headquarters, but Will was still nowhere to be found.

Jack was clearly still annoyed with her, but had calmed down considerably. It probably had something to do with the fact that Will was still working well. Even better, in fact. Clarice wasn’t sure how she felt about that. All she knew was that she needed back in the saddle, and on this case.

“Checking out a lead.”

Clarice nearly visibly jumped at that. There was no way. He hadn’t been on this case even a third of the time she has. She’s been to all the debriefings, seen every single crime scene in person, talked to every witness, participated in every failed stakeout. How was it possible for Will to have a lead?

“Should we not be with him? This isn’t protocol, sir, he is a civilian!”

Jack snorted at that. “Oh, so now we’re following protocol? Is it protocol, for an agent to take an unwilling civilian, and consultant to a hospital for the criminally insane, and proceed to blackmail them into going inside?”

Jack had her there. She still wasn’t sure what made her do that. In hindsight, it was a ridiculously stupid idea, something she doesn’t do. Ever. Something about the way this man just came in, once again, and undermined all her hard work. Just like with the Grant Washington case. She hadn’t slept for more than half an hour, in almost two days trying to solve that case. Trying desperately to think of a way to get Dr. Lecter to talk. Will not only got a hint, something she’d been trying to get from the prisoner for weeks, but he got the damned name and address. In less than ten minutes.

Something about how easy it all came for Will Graham infuriated her. She had to work twice as hard as every man she’d ever worked with to get to the point she was at. That part never really upset her, though. It excited her, to an extent, overcoming the challenge of excelling in a man’s world. A real man’s career. Especially since she’d always been better. From school to the academy and onwards, she’d always been number one. Top of the class, highest grades, best thesis… it was all her. Talk of her someday being in Jack’s position when he retires had already been in the winds.

“I’m sorry, sir. The mistake I made was insurmountable. I’m just lucky it seems to have gotten Mr. Graham in the right head space for this case.”

Jack sighed at that. “You’re right. I don’t know what it is about that monster, but he knows Will better than anyone, and knows how to get Will’s head turning in all the right ways. You should’ve seen him when they were married, Will was on fire. The success rate for our cases was through the roof. He used to have a problem seeing, you know? It always backfired, and he’d have to take breaks. Once he and Hannibal got together though, it just... worked. I hate to say it. I was supposed to be the boy’s anchor, and....”

Jack drifted off from there for a moment. He sat at his desk, running his fingers over an empty tumbler on his desk, clearly having just been emptied, what with the water swirling around under the glass.

“I’m inclined now, to think the reverse is also true. Will seems to be the only that truly knows, Hannibal. Is capable of understanding him. Must be why he’s so hellbent on not letting Will go.”

Clarice straightened up at that, stomach twisting uneasily. This was news to her.

“He doesn’t wanna let Will go? Where’d you hear that?

“Beverly Katz. She’s Will’s lawyer. We crossed paths at the BSCHI not too long ago. Apparently, Hannibal dragged out the divorce process as long as he could. As far as I know, his time’s just run out. Will’s finally going to be free of that man.”

Despite all of Jack’s being, well Jack, he seemed to truly be happy for Will. The years of guilt from this and that collected over Jack’s large frame like a quilt. He seemed content to be letting that particular patch go.

Clarice didn’t know what else to say, and Jack didn’t seem inclined to speak any longer, so she just quietly left his office, and went to her hotel room.

 

After taking a brief, cold shower, and having a small dinner consisting of a baked potato with canned chili on top, Clarice sat up in bed, thinking.

_“Does it upset you that he’s better?”_

Just hearing it again in her head got her blood boiling. That’s what that Dr. Bloom said to her, as she was leaving the BSCHI. She had been nearing the exit, when Dr. Bloom’s soft voice stopped her in her steps. She whipped her head around, face incredulous, but honey-brown eyes stern, daring her to repeat what she said.

Alana Bloom did just that, formerly kind blue eyes like ice, while her face and voice stayed deceptively calm.

“That’s why you did it, right? Because it upsets you that Will is better?”

“Better at what? Getting his husband to talk? Sure.”

Alana just smiled at that, and walked away, leaving Clarice with the distinct impression that she meant much more than that.

It was very similar to the words her father used to say.

_“A bit better than that, Clarice.”_

And now, Will Graham had a lead.

Clarice, in a rare bout of spontaneity, decided to have a drink or three.

 

_It was a humid day, when her father, decided to take her on a ride-along in White-Sulphur Springs, West Virginia, the town she was born and raised in. He’d just gotten off of work, a typically uneventful day being the sheriff of Greenbrier county in such a small town, and decided to treat his rambunctious baby girl to a fake stake out._

_Clarice Starling wasn’t much like other girls her age, and could care less about dolls, or makeup. She just wanted to be like her daddy. She’d been bugging him nonstop for weeks to take her. When he was the one to pick her up from school, she couldn’t have been happier._

_They parked near Kate’s Mountain Lodge, and got comfortable. Clarice was just finishing up enjoying her end of the banana split she and her father shared, downed a water bottle, and now furiously rummaging around in her backpack for her journal, all while keeping her eyes glued to the windshield, refusing to miss one single moment._

_“What are we looking for, daddy?”_

_He silently passed her a pair of her own binoculars, smiling all the while._

_“Nothing much, probably. That’s a part of the job you’ve gotta be ready for. Sometimes, you’ll be ready for anything, but doing a whole lotta nothing, alright?”_

_Clarice barely refrained from rolling her eyes. Those words coming from her father was nothing new. All the same, she was happy he took her, and wanted to make sure he would do it again, so, she made sure to nod extra hard and serious, locking eyes with her father’s steel grey ones._

_He clearly saw right through her, with the way he burst into laughter. She bounced around in her seat, agitated. She wanted to get started._

_After he finally calmed down, he told her the story._

_“Folklore about this place, says there was a woman named Kate, and her baby and husband named Nathan. There was a bunch of violence against white people from them Indians during that time. Story goes, that the family was attacked by some of them Shawnee folks. Her husband Nathan, got an axe, and tried to keep some of them at bay, so Kate and their baby Frances could go free. Unfortunately, she and her baby were scalped, and beheaded, just like Nathan.”_

_Clarice swallowed hard. The story scared her a bit, not to mention, made her more than a little nauseous, but she refrained from showing her father, lest he decide it was all ‘too-much’ for her._

_“Other versions of the story says, Nathan was at war, and Kate and baby Frances made it up to the top of the mountain to live, until it was safe, and she went and found Nathan.”_

_Clarice found that she liked that version of the story a lot better._

_“So what are we doing here?”_

_“Well, some of the folklore says it happened tonight. It’s common for us to get a call from the owners of this lodge with complaints. Some teens think it’s funny to come out here and scare these poor people. I want you to sit out here with me, and watch. If you see anything suspicious, you let me know, ‘kay pumpkin?”_

_Clarice nodded the affirmative._

_“Now what’s the first rule of a stake-out?”_

_“Get comfortable.”_

_“That’s right! Good job, baby girl. Now let’s get to it.”_

_As he had warned, they’d found nothing amiss. Clarice didn’t mind, though. Sitting there, with binoculars, and sticky ice cream residue on her fingers next to her father in his cruiser was all she needed._

Clarice groaned at that. She wasn’t sure what made those memories come to her now, but they were thoroughly unwelcome. As she sat on the edge of the bed, sipping on her third mini bottle of Shiner Rock, when she got a most unwelcome text:

‘ **Will says his lead looks promising. We might have a name and address by tonight. Keep u posted** ’ -Jack

At that, Clarice calmly turned off her phone, and headed to the fridge in her hotel room, shoving the beer and wine over for the good stuff. After settling in with a few bottles of vodka, Clarice crawls back in bed, determined to stay there for the night.

“Go to hell, Will Graham.” She slurred one time, before downing the next bottle.

_Her mother hated cars. Ironic in a morbid way, that she’d die in one. Clarice had felt unusually numb to it all, for the entire day, and throughout the funeral. Everyone was in her and her father’s face. Her feet were blistering in her dress shoes. And her father wouldn’t look at her. Not once._

_After her mother died, her father changed. He no longer sat her on his lap after dinner, took her on mock stake-outs or ride-alongs, or even really talked to her. She knew she looked just like her mother, and that was probably part of the torment._

_The only time her father bothered to speak to her was in response to whatever report card she brought to him, award, trophy, or other accolade. He’d only say one thing: “A bit better than that, Clarice. You gotta do a bit better than that.”_

_She wasn’t sure why she kept doing it. It made her cry every time. She knew it wasn’t that she wasn’t doing extremely well. He said it even when she got a perfect score. She still just wanted to prove to herself that she could get him to say ‘good job, baby girl’, if only one more time._

Clarice turns back on her phone, too drunk to focus on anything, but turning on the volume, turning off the lights, and going to bed, tears burning behind her eyelids. She’ll just have to do better next time.

 

_She’d finally done it. She’d finally gotten into the FBI. All of the blood, sweat, and tears, all of the long hours, had finally paid off._

_She’d come back to White Sulphur Springs, before her final move to Baltimore to come see her dad. He hadn’t made it to the graduation, but when she called him the night before to tell him that she’d be coming around to see him, and show him her diploma, he’d sounded somewhat happy for her. She couldn’t wait to show her daddy what she’d accomplished._

_She’d made it to the front door, sliding in her old house key, and opening it hurriedly, before quickly picking up her suitcase, and coming inside, calling out to her father._

_“Daddy? I’m home.”_

_She’d put her suitcase in her old room, making sure to get her graduation certificate to get out of it, before putting it on the side of her bed, and going out into the hall, when she heard the fan going in her dad’s room._

_She straightened up her coat, and put her certificate in front of her chest proudly before opening the door wide, smile on her face._

_“Daddy, look! I did it!”_

_He’d been waiting for her, clearly._

_He was sitting in his easy chair, with the fan on, (the a/c never worked well in the back of the house), and he’d even turned his chair to face the door._

_If he could’ve kept his eyes open and locked on the door in death, she’s sure he would’ve done that too._

_His standard, issued handgun, laid beside him on the floor, where he dropped it._

_She was still numb at the time. Her feet hurt too. She woodenly walked over, placed her certificate on the table next to him, and crouched next to his legs, pressing her face to his calves, while she started to breathe erratically._

_“I know, daddy. I should’ve done a bit better.”_

Her phone ringing woke her up. Looking at the phone, she sees it must have been ringing for awhile, as it just went off. It was Jack. She would’ve ignored it, if she didn’t see that he’d called her five times. She called him back. He answered on the first ring.

“Where the hell have you been?”

“I was asleep sir, I’m sorry.”

She was alert immediately by his tone of voice. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

“I can’t get ahold of Will. We’d traced his phone to an empty field He’s missing. Why were you sleeping? You should be here by now, damn it!”

She could tell she was missing something. Why did he trace Will’s phone?

“I don’t understand…”

There was a brief moment of silence as understanding must have dawned on Jack.

“You mean you didn’t get any of my texts or voicemail?”

“I got your first, that Will had a lead, but-”

“THAT WAS HOURS AGO, CLARICE.”

His loud, disappointed voice jolted her. After her distant and not so distant memories had come to the surface she felt raw. It wasn’t what she needed.

He seemed to remember the urgency of what he was calling for, when he cut himself off, finally speaking calmly, though his next words stunned her more.

“Hannibal Lecter has escaped from the BSCHI.”

Her heart hammered in her chest, thoroughly rushing away most of her intoxication.

“What? How? When?”

“We found out three hours ago. According to them, he’d broken out closer to eight.”

“What?” She knew she was repeating herself but couldn’t help it. She kept her phone to her ear with her shoulder, while she hurriedly got dressed, not even bothering to turn on the light.

“He had people on the inside. Probably bribed. It was quiet. We always assumed that if he were to try and escape, there’d be a riot, or veritable blood bath, but… he just walked out. A few, now missing guards had turned off the cameras, unlocked a few doors, and simply let him out. Every single guard that worked the shift of his waking hours, and on his floor are missing, except one. One was found in Hannibal’s uniform under the sheets in his bed, dead, obviously. Alana knew for certain he was there in the morning, when he received breakfast, as she’d seen him with her own eyes before she went to check on the other patients, and went home. It wasn’t until a guard that usually comes down to play a round of cards found the security room empty, that things came to light.

Clarice was stunned. She didn’t know what to say. She’d gotten completely dressed, and was looking for her keys, desperately needing to get to head-quarters to be of use.

He spoke the next words that were on her mind.

“And now Will is not picking up the phone.”

She thought on Jack’s words from earlier. How Hannibal had run out of time, and Will could proceed with the divorce with no further delay.

“Do you think he has him?”

Jack sighed brokenly. “He’s not one for keeping victims long, Clarice.”

Clarice could tell Jack was in a state. This wasn’t the first time he’d lost an agent.

“Will isn’t just some victim, Jack! You know that. I’m coming to head-quarters now. We’ll find him.”

After that, Clarice hung up. She finally turned on the light, frustrated with not finding her keys.

“I sincerely hope you do.”

Clarice’s blood ran cold. She’d recognize that voice anywhere. She berated herself on not noticing his presence earlier. She noticed with the lights on, that both her gun and keys were conspicuously missing. She turned around.

There, in all his powerful glory, stood Hannibal Lecter. He smiled, eyes dark, and teeth sharp.

 

“Good evening, Clarice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOOOoooo that cliffy, lol. (I literally couldn't help myself, im so sorry omg)
> 
> So yeah, that's Clarice. It wasn't her father that went it was her mother first, and she never made it to Montana to hear them damned lamb scream. *sighs*  
> Not an excuse for her assholey behavior, (especially to my baby Will, wtf no) but rather an explanation.
> 
> We're getting to the exciting parts of the story, specifically a few scenes that the story was built around!  
> I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, and don't forget to leave some lovin' in the form of kudos and reviews!
> 
> See y'all next weekend!!!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was wild. And weird. I've decided after this story is done, that I'll do a few one-shots in this universe, so that I can go more in depth with the past. I don't feel it will fit in this story, but if you want to check those out, I'll have it up sometime in the near future!

There’s something to be said for self-conditioning. Specifically, convincing oneself that the lion is not in the room with them. Clarice figured she must have done just that, somewhere along the way, in her interviews with Dr. Lecter. In the beginning, she had been terrified. Jack had caught wind that there was the possibility that Dr. Lecter had a connection to The Ventriloquist, a serial killer that started in the bay area, and made their way across the coast turning children into talking puppets. Jack had told Clarice that there was too much bad blood between them, there’d be no way they could ever talk cordially.

So, he’d sent her. And she was terrified. She compartmentalized, used breathing exercises, and above all stayed perfectly respectful and polite. Somewhere along the way… she forgot. He spoke so softly, and smiled with no hint of malice. He respected her, and was intrigued by her. She let her guard down.

That had been her first of many mistakes regarding one Hannibal Lecter.

He moved quickly and with purpose. One moment, he was on the other side of the room, hovering near the desk, silent and imposing. The next, he was behind her, effortlessly putting her in a choke hold. She tried to no avail to stop him, digging her nails into his arms, beating on his head, all of it was no use. He behaved as though he didn’t feel her scratches, and calmly avoided most of her hits to his head, moving it out of the way. Her last thought before her eyes went heavy shouldn’t have been how nice he smelled.

 

When she came to, she could tell immediately that she was no longer in her room, though that didn’t say much. The air in the room was stale, and the windows were boarded up. She was handcuffed (her handcuffs) to an admittedly comfortable chair, in the otherwise old, dilapidated room. She wasn’t alone. Hannibal’s shadow lingered somewhere nearby, though her eyes still hadn’t completely adjusted to the dimly lit room. Her throat felt bruised, and her mouth was dry, lips cracked painfully.

“Of all the places, I’d expect you to be should you escape, it certainly wouldn’t be here with me. Why’d you come after me, Dr. Lecter?” She was proud that her voice stayed calm, keeping her queries short and to the point.

He was perched in a chair opposite her, that looked much less comfortable. It shocked her to see how he was dressed. She’d only seen clips of him in three-piece suits, and in his prison jumpsuit. Now, his long, strong legs are incased in dark wash jeans, hugging his muscular thighs perfectly. He was also wearing a fitted, V-neck shirt with ¾ sleeves, showing off his strong, slightly furry arms. His hair was loose, and much longer than it seemed at the BSCHI, him usually having pushed it back with water, and away from his face. He looked younger. And dangerous. When he smiled at her now, it was all malice, wrapped up in a veneer of polite interest.

“I didn’t. You were simply the easiest to find. Jack should take better care of his things. I’d usually love to sit here and chat, but I’m short on time, I’m afraid. Can you tell me where to find Will?”

A feeling of unease and dread that should have been there since she laid eyes on him in her hotel room finally manifested, his words from earlier resurfacing.

“You want to find… Will Graham?”

His face remained menacingly pleasant, though something in the glint of his eyes gave her the vague impression of annoyance. The alcohol still in her system sloshed unpleasantly, making her feel slightly nauseous.

“Yes.” He answered simply. His eyes were devoid of their usual amusement and intrigue. He was usually so patient with her. Interested in what she had to say.

She wanted to ask, to demand why. It made no sense. When he was locked up, he _never_ spoke of Will.

“I don’t know where he is.” She spoke honestly, hoping he didn’t notice the bitterness coating her words.

“But you do have a clue. You told Jack that you’d help him find Will. That implies that you’d somehow be useful to the search. Besides that, Will consulted on your case. Jack said Will had a lead. Do you know what that lead was?”

Despite her fear, Clarice was pissed. “I’m a good agent. That is how I’d be useful. And no, Jack didn’t tell me what his lead was. Will just went off on his own.” She snapped.

Hannibal tilted his head, regarding her for a moment.

“It sounds like you won’t be useful to me, then.”

Clarice’s heart rate sped up. He looked done, and that definitely couldn’t bode well for her.

“He was talking to a member of the last church we visited! For a while, too. I’m sure you know your husband well enough to know how unusual it is for him to talk to anyone, let alone a stranger for more than a few seconds. He talked to the kid for what must have been ten to fifteen minutes.” The southern twang in her voice intensified with her desperation.

That did it. Damocles’ sword swayed a little farther from her head for a moment. Hannibal’s interest was once again peaked. He smiled softly.

“And what is the name of this church?”

 

 

The air surrounding this part of North Carolina had grown chilly. It was nearing fall, and the mountain air made everything all the colder. The car Hannibal had confiscated, was a useless piece of junk with no working a/c, the kind of fixer-upper Will would’ve loved to get his hands on. By the time Hannibal made it to the church, he’d worked himself into a fury he hadn’t known since he was but a child. The audacity of these people that take things that belong to him! He intended on rectifying that tonight. The lights on the car had already been turned off. He left it a few yards away from the church, and walked on foot. Will was here. He could smell him.

The church was what you’d expect any small church to look like. White paint, small, dried shrubbery, with a dirt parking lot. He could see a shed, just off to the side, but it looked locked tight. He paused in front of the doors leading into the sanctuary for a moment, listening for sound. There was none. His feet expertly avoided the dried-up leaves littering the steps, keeping light and silent on his toes. He briefly fingered the blade in his hand, as he opened one of the doors with the other.

It was dark. The humble church’s lights were all off, but candles were haphazardly surrounding the pulpit, where a sacrificial lamb already laid, prostrate before his god. As Hannibal stepped closer, he could see it was yet another black American, this time male, that was chosen. A slight movement off to the right caught his eye.

There, tied with expert knots was another black man, though this one was still alive. His mouth was taped, but his eyes weren’t shielded and were looking at Hannibal with desperation, muffled voice pleading with him violently. Tears streamed from midnight eyes, completely hysterical with surprise and fear. Because it didn’t seem like the scribe was around, and Will was nowhere in sight, Hannibal decided to ask the would-be victim if he knew anything.

He walked over quickly, hiding the blade behind his back. Slowly removing the tape, Hannibal opened his mouth to ask his questions, before he was overridden with the man’s inane babbling.

“Please, man you’ve got to get me outta here! He’s insane he’s gonna kill me, and you too! I don’t know where he came from, but you’ve gotta get me outta here!”

 

“You’re asking the wrong guy, bud. He’s not going to help you. Are you?”

 

Hannibal went completely still at the sound of that voice. He’d recognize it anywhere. His heart thudded erratically as the slow, distinct steps drew closer. He turned around.

“I’ll admit I’m confused, Will.”

Standing there, completely unharmed, was William Shannon Graham-Lecter. Will walked closer, standing right next to Hannibal, but not looking at him. Hannibal imagined what he felt right then, had to be insanity. It took every bit of his restraint not to bury his face in Will’s neck and breathe him in.

“Before I send you to hell,” Will started, completely unaware of Hannibal’s inner turmoil, “I’d like to know why you did it. Why did you take these innocent people’s lives? Why Lj’s?” Will’s voice grew chillier as he spoke, absolutely frigid when he finished. Hannibal briefly looked at the young man on the ground, braided hair slightly covered with a shawl.

Ah.

“Tell me, Will. Is this the young man you’d spoken to at this very church earlier?”

Will didn’t look at Hannibal, but he nodded jerkily, blue eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“And he gave you a lead. That brought you here, but too late. This killer had already killed Lj.”

Hannibal couldn’t believe his luck. It’s like the spring of Will’s chrysalis’ cracking several years ago. The moment he’d been waiting for-

“I don’t want you getting any ideas, about this Hannibal.” Will spoke as if he’d plucked Hannibal’s thoughts out of thin air.

“I promised Leon. I promised him that I’d keep his family, and his church safe. That’s what I’m doing. Protecting the sheep from the wolves, remember?”

Hannibal’s heart lurched. He couldn’t care less about anyone else. But here, his Will standing there, looking like an avenging angel, Hannibal finally sees the error he had made. He opened his mouth ready to begin correcting them, when Will moved.

One minute he was beside Hannibal, the next he was on top of the Scribe, hands around his throat. He flexed his hands briefly, veins popping out in his strong, fisherman hands. His curls blocked his eyes from Hannibal’s view, though he could see his sharp snarl. He was breathtaking.

“Tell me why.” He spoke softly.

“Don’t you remember me, Willie? M’as-tu oublié?”

Will froze. Hannibal sighed inwardly. Of course. Some friend from Will’s past, judging by the informal French, he’s guessing New Orleans. More complications. Although, learning more about his darling, enigmatic husband is always worth the trouble.

“Yeah, it’s me Will. Raymond.”

Will sighed shakily. Then released his neck, though he still hovered.

“Reggie’s son? The one that used to follow me around after church?”

Raymond laughed hoarsely. His midnight brown eyes shown devilishly at Will. Hannibal’s eyes narrowed. Will ran his hands through his hair frustrated. When he spoke again, his voice was slightly muffled until he broke his hands away from his face.

“That still doesn’t tell me why, Ray.”

Ray’s smile stayed on his face, though something not quite right stirred behind his dark eyes.

“I thought you of all people would’ve understood. Considering how our dads died.”

Will’s face immediately shut down. Hannibal’s would’ve perked up in delight, if it hadn’t been for the haunted look in Will’s eyes. He decided he didn’t like the way that looked anymore. At all.

“Ordinary men, trying to do some good. They weren’t hurting anybody! It’s not like him and my mama didn’t have an understanding. She didn’t love him no how… just liked the big hats, and front seat being first lady.”

Will stayed unresponsive.

“I saw them once.” His voice became reverent, hushed. “It was beautiful. Like… night and day personified. Your daddy was hurtin’, and so was mine. Together, they were _more_. They were better.”

“My daddy was the preacher that fed the flock spiritually, while yours was the fisherman that fed them physically. That was gonna be you and me, when we got big. I’d already decided. Remember when my dad asked you to sing with our kid choir with us? The sunshine band? That Sunday, we sang the song, ‘I know I’ve Been changed’, and you led it. How crazy them black folks went when they heard the quiet little white boy with a soulful voice! It changed me, Willie. _Changed_ me.”

Will’s face became vaguely horrified and confused. “I don’t understand what killing these innocent people has to do with me. It’s not like you even knew I’d come.”

“And I honestly wasn’t expecting you to. I was going to come find you after.” Raymond spoke matter-of-factly, oblivious to the murderous stare he was receiving from behind Will’s shoulders.

“And they weren’t innocent. They’re just like all of those other closed-minded Christians, judging what they don’t understand.”

“It was an accident, Ray.”

“NO IT WASN’T.” Ray was frantic now, wide dark eyes gleaming, wild with grief, and curiously enough, pride.

Will looked completely stumped. He finally looked back at Hannibal, to see if he was following anything Ray was saying. Hannibal’s face was blank, but one faint eyebrow was slightly raised. He had no idea either.

“Your daddy was gonna leave my daddy Will. He said so one night on the dock facing y’all’s boat. He wasn’t making any money, and he was going to have to move. My daddy was distraught. He begged and begged him to stay, but he said he couldn’t. He wanted to, but had to look out for his little boy. For you. My daddy asked him to come over to the church at night, one more time. That’s when I knew what I had to do.”

Hannibal knows himself to fear nothing, and certainly not death. But for once in his life, he can admit quietly to himself that he was a bit intimidated by the look on Will’s face. And turned on.

“What did you do, Ray?” Will spoke softly, slightly gravelly voice hinting at nothing.

“They used to meet in the basement of the church for their little… rendezvous. So, I took the chance to solidify their union. They’d always be more. Forever. I lit that ugly little church on fire. By the time they’d realized, it was too late. Don’t you see? They died together. That’s me! That’s what I did for them, what I was sent here to do! I—”

Ray couldn’t finish his sentence with Will’s hands around his throat, crushing it.

“What did you think? We’d become like our fathers? Ride into the sunset together, after you killed Reggie, fucking KILLED MY DAD?” Will’s wrath was magnetic. Hannibal couldn’t help himself. He slid closer, aligning his body behind Will’s. He slid the knife in his hand in front of Will, finally taking the chance to bury his face in Will’s neck, breathing in his wrath and darkness, finally brought to the surface.

“This would be more prudent a weapon, don’t you think Will? He loves to spill the blood of others, why not spill his?”

Will looked beside him at the blade, face unreadable. He took the blade from Hannibal’s hand, ignoring the way Hannibal’s fingers caressed his.

“If you’d like me to take the fall for this, I’d be more than happy to, dear Will. What’s one more body in my name?” Hannibal whispered heatedly against Will’s ear.

Will smirked to himself. He looked at Ray one last time, homicidal humor still etched on his face.

“Isn’t my husband so thoughtful, Ray?”

Ray finally looked behind him in horror, finally putting two and two together, recognizing the superior killer behind Will.

The blade glinted in the light burning from the candles. Will began to hum, and Hannibal took a front row seat, in the pew, in awe of his God.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't let Will's evil little muffin smile fool you. He and Hanni are not yet on good terms, lol. Though I wonder, what happened to Clarice?
> 
> See y'all next week.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wowwwwwww a whole week longer than I said this was going to take. Wowwwwww and it's a whole 2-3 thousand words less than it should be. Je suis vraiment désolé! In my excitement for the last chapter, (And American Gods shhh omg I'm obsessed) I forgot that I'm a student, and classes will be starting on Tuesday, and ...... yeah, I'm a mess.

Will didn’t watch to see where Hannibal was taking Ray’s body. He didn’t care. The pain he felt, bone-deep, was taking everything in him not to succumb to. For supposedly being someone with a genius-level gift of sight, he didn’t _see._ How different that time around his father was when the money ran out. Usually, he would sit Will on his lap, saying, “Why don’t we go on ahead, and leave this little town, huh?” Will would nod his head, and go to his little room to get his worn bag from under his bed, having never bothered to unpack.

In New Orleans, his father despaired over leaving. Will even heard him on the phone, arguing with a loan company one night. It took weeks, but Carlisle finally went to his son that was sitting in front of a small, television set, watching Three’s Company, coughing lightly to catch his attention.

“I thought we’d be able to stay, but we just can’t any longer, bud. I found good work around Lake Erie, but we’re going to have to leave tonight. We’ll be taking a truck I bought off Deacon Johnson with the boat attached.”

Will just nodded his head, but frowned when he noticed his dad was cleaned up. Will shot off the couch, grabbing his shoes by the door. “So, we’re leaving right now?” He asked, as he began hurriedly toeing into his tennis shoes. A large hand stopped him. He looked up to his father smiling softly.

“No bud, not now. Daddy’s gonna go take care of a few things. Go ahead and get some sleep while I’m gone, okay? I’ll wake you up when I get back, so we can leave.”

His father embraced his son once more, burying his little face in his chest, before he pats his head and left. When Will was awoken the next day, it was to the face of a remorseful police officer and social worker.

Will tried to reconcile what he grew up believing, to the truth. In the end, Will ended up staying in a children’s home in New Orleans, excelling in school despite being in the system, and went to college, before joining the force. Ray’s mother moved the both of them to Atlanta, to live with her mother. When the church was rebuilt, Will never stepped foot in it. He moved to Baltimore, got into the F.B.I, got stabbed, started therapy with Alana, and…

And met Hannibal.

In all the ups and downs of his life, he just kept going, not even stopping, not even _considering_ that something else could’ve happened to his father. He dedicated his life to avenging the deaths of victims, but was blind to the fact that his father was one of them.

The walls of his world were caving in. He was tired, and hurt, and it was all too much-

“Will.”

Will’s eyes flew open to look into a pair of golden-brown ones. Hannibal cradled his face softly, as if it were the most delicate thing he’d ever held.

“Breathe, Will.”

Those words effectively brought Will back to the here and now. Somehow, Hannibal had gotten him, and the body away from the church, and they were squatting in some abandoned house. Those familiar words reminded Will of another time Hannibal had said such words, and he was not amused. He slapped his hands away harshly.

“Get the hell away from me.”

Hannibal sighed. “We need to talk about this, Will. Talk about us.”

“THERE IS NO US. You made sure of that.”

Hannibal’s eyes darkened. “I won’t give you up, Will. Not for anything, or anyone.” He stepped deliberately closer with each word he spoke, caging Will in against the wall.

Will hated himself for how hard his heart began to beat at his words, how flushed his skin became. Despite his body’s reactions, he snapped back at Hannibal, tilting his chin up defiantly, smirking derisively.

“You will never have me again, Hannibal. I’m sure Agent Starling would be more than happy to be on the run with you, though.”

Hannibal’s face grew more displeased with every word Will spoke, but became bemused by the mention of Clarice.

“Are you jealous of the attentions I’ve bestowed on Clarice, Will?”

“Hell no. I know that you wanted me to believe something was there, though. And I’m sure you’re aware by now of how her feelings regarding you are no longer completely professional?” Will’s smile was absolutely impish and disdainful.

Hannibal leaned closer to Will once again, hovering over him, entranced. When he spoke again, his voice had grown unintentionally husky.

“I’m aware. Though, I’m afraid she’ll have much more to worry about in her future than me.”

Will was confused by his ominous statement, but decided that he didn’t give a shit. Hannibal was like a big, bad ass kid, and he was bound to stir up stuff, and fuck shit up where ever he went.

“I need to go, Hannibal. Jack needs to be made aware of the situation, and I need to get home.”

Hannibal’s eyes narrowed at that.

“I’ve taken care of everything, dear Will. Jack will know that you’ve once again saved the day, will be made to believe that I made a mess of it, and that Clarice has much to atone for.”

His forehead pushed against Will’s, locking eyes with him. Will’s heart pounded at the dark, obsessive look Hannibal was giving him. That distracted him from the hand that had previously been on the wall beside his head, caging him in, that now was cradling the back of his head. Before he could protest, Hannibal had pressed his mouth feverishly against Will’s, puzzling his wet, full mouth against his, relentlessly.

For a few, heart wrenching moments, Will caved in. He let Hannibal grip him by the hair and waist, and pull him in, manhandling him. He let him put his surprisingly still toned thigh between his legs and grind. He let him bite, lick and suck at his lips, and then he remembered.

Henry.

With the last of his reserves he pushed Hannibal away. It made it no less difficult to see how wild, and debauched Hannibal looked, making no effort to hide how Will affected him.

“Ignoring the fact that you are a wanted man, and killer, and that we are in the middle of a divorce, and that you HUMILIATED me during the entire process… I am no longer yours. I’m with someone else now.”

Somehow, despite the fact that Hannibal backed away obediently, and didn’t try to come near him again, Will knew he made a mistake.

“I won’t be caught again, Will.”

“I never expected you to.”

“You may go to Jack and tell him whatever you wish. I will be taking my leave of this dreary place.”

Will sighed. Jack wouldn’t be happy that Hannibal escaped, but Will wasn’t going to risk trying to take him down. As healthy and athletic as Will is, he fully remembered that it took several large men to take Hannibal down.

“Where will you go?”

Hannibal smiled knowingly. “Here and there. Have a goodnight, dear Will. I know I will.”

Without a backwards glance, Hannibal left. Something about what he said and how quick and easily he left, made Will feel uneasy. Like he was forgetting something important.

Will felt in his pockets for his phone, and quickly dialed Jack’s number. He picked up on the first ring.

“Hello?” Jack barked. Despite his commanding tone, Will could hear a note of apprehension. He was expecting to hear Hannibal’s voice.

“It’s me, Jack. Hannibal’s gone.”

It wasn’t when Jack had Will bundled up in the back of an unmarked SUV that he remembered. It wasn’t when he was sipping putrid coffee while being questioned. It wasn’t when he was being swabbed and prodded for evidence. It wasn’t even when he finally, miraculously laid his head to finally go to sleep that morning. It was when he awoke that he finally remembered.

Henry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would say see y'all next week, but that could be another gotdamned lie, lol. So, see y'all next time.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another short one *grumbles unintelligibly* But there's a sorta kinda important note at the end.  
> Enjoy!!!

Clarice had the look of a battle-weary soldier just come home, when Jack walked in the room. She was sat up in her hospital bed, honey-brown eyes showing relief, pride, and no small amount of agitation.

“Their food is shit here, sir.”

“I know it.” Jack said little else. His face said even less. He hovered near the end of her bed, as though he planned on sitting on the edge, thought better of it, and sat in the hard, plastic chair on the other side of the room.

“Is it over, sir? Did we get him?”

Jack’s eyes flashed with anger and amusement. “Which one?”

Clarice squirmed. She eyed the tepid cup of coffee in Jack’s hand. He hardly seemed aware of it.

“Both, I guess.”

Jack placed his cup of coffee down, and finally let out a chuckle. When he spoke again, his voice was incredibly soft, as soft as it would be when he spoke on the phone to his wife, though not nearly as kind.

“Will caught the Scribe. His lead panned out, and HE caught that son-of-a-bitch.”

Clarice wasn’t slow enough to miss the stressing of the word ‘he’. She nodded her head absentmindedly, though Jack didn’t seem to be finished.

“But as for the other, well…. funny story. Lecter seemed to have broken out and caught up with one of my agents.” Clarice felt her stomach drop.

“The agent was caught unaware. I don’t blame them for that. They had no reason to assume he’d get out and come for them. No, that wasn’t the worst part.”

“Sir-”

“The fact that they were drunk off their ass in their hotel room while on a murder investigation, wasn’t the worst. Though definitely disappointing.”

“Jack, please.” Clarice choked out wetly.

“It was that when that agent’s back was against the wall, and they were looking into the eyes of death, they thought it okay to put SOMEONE ELSE’S LIFE IN DANGER. They thought it okay, to tell the killer where to find their spouse.”

Clarice stayed quiet at that.

“Now I’ve got the world’s most dangerous serial killer on the loose, a psych eval waiting for me back in Baltimore, The Scribe’s head wrapped in a bow with no body, and a fucking pending restraining order from my best, and former agent Will Graham. His lawyer Katz won’t even let me speak to him!”

Clarice closed her eyes. They were itchy. Her throat was dry, and her lips were overly wet, from constantly licking them, smelling like saliva. Her head felt like it was split in two.

“I’m very sorry this has been so hard on you, sir.” Her voice was completely flat, void of any inflection. The florescent lights weren’t doing her any favors. Her skin was pallid, and her strawberry blonde hair was flat and heavy from the lack of wash. All the same, she’d never sounded like she gave less of a fuck.

Jack snapped his head to her at that. His eyes narrowed. “I expected better from you, Starling. You’ll be getting an evaluation as well. You’re suspended until the evaluation clears.”

Clarice smiled. “And yours?”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”

She snorted. “I could’ve done a bit better than that. Hell, a lot better than that. And I’m not ashamed to admit that I could probably use someone to talk to about these things. But I sure as hell ain’t the only one.”

She turned her head away from him at that, clearly dismissing him. Though he huffed angrily, he said nothing else, and slammed out of her hospital room.

She exhaled shakily. And let herself fall asleep. For once not lingering over everything she did wrong.

 

Will was on pins and needles. Some agent that wasn’t Jack had assured him that agents based in Florida was already stationed there, and was protecting Henry. Will wasn’t reassured in the slightest.

He went from car to airport, to airport to taxi. The entire time his breath was bated. He tried to sleep while on the plane, but every time he closed his eyes, all that he could see was red hair coated in even redder blood. He didn’t stop to enjoy the Floridian heat and salty smell. He didn’t stop to look at the unmarked cars surrounding his house. He couldn’t even stop at the sound of barking. He ran, and ran, heat plastering his curls to his head, and drying his lips. Hot air hitched in and out of his lungs and through his throat.

He didn’t stop until strong arms dusted in red hair wrapped around him. Then he stopped. And cried.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay I’m here. I’m fine, and I’m here.”

Will buried his face in his chest. He still smelled like salty flesh and Cheetos, but if he focused, he could’ve sworn that he detected motor oil, Old Spice, and crawfish.

 

“My baby! My Jon Snow!! Thank fuck you’re alive!”

Will laughed himself hoarse at the sight of Beverly at his door. After the hellish week he had, he isn’t even a little bit surprised by her ‘surprise’ visit. He knew he could keep her at bay for only so long. He kindly didn’t mention the way her arms shook briefly around him, or the way her dark eyes glistened for a few moments.

“You reaaaally need to lay off the Game of Thrones, Bev. We’re past unhealthy. I’m telling you this as a friend.”

“You wouldn’t be so judgmental about it if you watched it, hon.” Will sighed Henry’s words, and the feel of his arms wrapping around his waist. Beverly’s dark, assessing eyes looked on approvingly.

“I accept this.” She said abruptly, walking past them, into Will’s house like she owned the place, greeting the rambunctious dogs.

Will laughed again, shaking his head at his best friend’s antics. Looking up at Henry’s face, he felt warmth at the bashful blush decorating his cheeks.

“Well, that was easy.” Henry murmured. Will huffed, ignoring the small panic attack that fluttered his system. He was used to it by now.

 

After not being greeted by carnage left by Hannibal, Will didn’t have time to ponder why, when he was just flooded with relief. Shortly after though, he couldn’t help but feel anxiety fill him up, more and more. Especially with the lack of news of a capture. Henry was sure he fled the country. Will was inclined to believe that as well, though he wasn’t willing to worry Henry with the truth.

It didn’t matter now, none of it did. Rather Hannibal was a state away, or a continent away, he’d be back. He promised Will that he wouldn’t let him go for anything, and he has yet to have broken a single one.

Will wasn’t sure why he was still here. He’d tried to leave Henry after the first night back. Sure, that Hannibal was just around the corner, ready to snatch him up. Henry stopped him with a few sensible words.

“I decided to look this man up. You know I hate looking at things like this, but I felt I should know. And I’ve gotta say. He doesn’t strike me as the type to let me go scot-free, just because you aren’t here anymore.” Henry’s head was propped up on Will’s chest, running his fingers down Will’s skin, lightly sweaty from their previous activities. Will ran his hands through his flame-like hair, and sighed in acquiescence.

And Will knew he was right. Hannibal would take it as an affront that Henry thought he could have Will at all. He wouldn’t let him live.

But Will knew he was right as well. Hannibal would come back for him. And when he did, he would leave Henry’s corpse in his wake.

Will stayed quiet on his knowledge. Ignored the pangs of anxiety, and occasional panic attack. Ignored the nightmares of Henry’s howling pain, and Hannibal’s heated eyes. Ignored what he knew he had to do.

Will played the perfect host to Beverly. Showed her around, laughed at her when she got sunburned, and preceded to getting her some aloe vera.

He finalized his divorce and sent the papers back with Beverly to Baltimore.

He soothed Henry’s bruises from the skating rink, and fucked him just the way he liked, missionary with the lights off.

He gave Winston a proper cut, and himself as well.

And at night, weeks later, when Beverly is back in Baltimore, the dogs are fed, and Henry is satiated and asleep, Will books a flight for some weeks in the future.

Hannibal always wanted to show him Florence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Will.
> 
> Well, hey guys I'm back!!! And I've got to say, it feels soooooo good to be getting back to this story. 
> 
> Sad news: This story will be ending in two chapters. I plan on going all the fuck out on those, so they'll be the longest chapters I've written. Ideally 6k each.  
> GOOD news: One shots of Will's past, how he and Hannibal met, and such will be coming after. There are also other stories forming in the works, that will be out sometime in the future.
> 
> I just wanted to thank all of you guys for your kind words, hilarious and insightful anecdotes, and polite and constructive criticism. It has truly made me a better writer, and made me even more excited to get this work out, and make it even better. This fandom is the best. 
> 
> See y'all at the beginning of the end.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. This was an obscenely long time. And I lied. Soooo...... I got overzealous, thinking I could just slap out two 6k chapters and be done, but this is NOT going as planned, lol. This chapter is short, but I got tired of just having it sit here. So... good news? This story is going to be a bit longer. I wanted to be done, but it's going to be a bit more of a slow burn. Hannibal and Will still haven't had their pow-wow, and a few more formative events need to happen first. So hey, I'm back! Check me out on my tumblr, where I reblog hannigram stuff, other fandom stuff, and soon about this story again! Also, If you care about what's going on in my life, and where I've been. Plus I want to talk! Please say hi. Also, important note regarding the near future at the end. Find me on Tumblr at: [Queenyoruichi12](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/queenyoruichi12)

“So, how did you two meet, anyway?” Was the first question Henry asked, once they were all settled in for dinner. All being Henry, Will, Alana, and the elusive Margot. Alana, smiling bright and happy, as she had since she walked in, and officially met Henry, proceeds to tell him. “Will had just recently gotten to Quantico from New Orleans. He wasn’t yet in Behavioral Science.” She took a sip of her sweet tea, kindly letting Will take over the rest.

“As she said, I wasn’t under Jack yet. He’d taken notice, but I wasn’t in his unit. I had a case that landed in our jurisdiction, simply for the locale: a murder at a damned post office. My lead hated my guts, said ‘we’ll leave this to the cop,’ and left me to it. Turns out it wasn’t so simple. Organized crime hit gone south, and when I got the perp, I got stabbed. I never expected to take down a major operation on my first rodeo, so that was nice. And also got fucking stabbed, if I hadn’t yet mentioned.”

Henry and Alana chuckled, but Margot flat out cackled. “Sorry,” she said. Will glanced at her. She had dark hair, closer to Will’s shade, than Alana’s, with cool blue eyes. Alana had mentioned, that she came from money, and a dark past, and for Will to please not look. So, he didn’t.

“Don’t be. Where was I? Oh yeah, so they awarded me, and provided an FBI-funded therapist, for a psych-eval. It was standard back then for first injuries, kills, and mishaps. And that’s how I met Dr. Bloom. I went in to talk about a stab, and stayed for everything else. She truly is the best.” Will coughed after he said this, going back to his lemon pound cake, he’d brought out for dessert. He kindly pretended he didn’t see Alana’s eyes water.

“Anyway, enough about the past. I hear you all are taking a little trip?” Alana quickly changed the subject, to Will’s relief. Neither of them wanted to discuss what happened after. Henry smiled with bliss, and Will tried to ignore the guilty pang that hit his chest at the sight.

“We both could use it, I think. I hear Florence is quite beautiful.” Henry said around a mouthful of cake. Winston softly patted over to Will’s chair, seemingly having a sixth sense for talk of Will leaving him for any length of time. Will rubbed his head absentmindedly, trying to think of a way to circumvent the contemplative look that came into Alana’s eyes at the mention of the city. For how well she knew Hannibal, and how intelligent she was, Will couldn’t hope for her to not notice. He sighed inwardly, aware of what he’d have to do.

“It’s one of many stops. We’ll first be making a stop in Scotland.” Henry dived in, inadvertently saving Will from having to lie.

“Why Scotland?” Margot asked, sipping on a glass of iced tea, while sneaking scraps of meat off her dinner plate to Sadie and Pearl.

“Why not? I may not look it as much as Mr. O’Sullivan, But I am Scottish.” Will grumbled sarcastically. His half-smirk at Henry belied any real animosity. “Yeah, among a million other things, Mr. I’m-so-Creole-I-speak-French-fluently.” Henry said, while running his hand over Will’s callused one. Everyone laughed at their banter, even Alana, who’s calculating look had up until that very moment, yet to relent.

After dinner and dessert, Henry and Will said their goodbyes to Alana and Margot, both promising to visit the other again soon. With an unspoken request, Will followed Alana to her car, sighing all the while. He knew he wasn’t going to be able to keep this at bay for long.

“Your wife is lovely, Alana. I’m happy for the both of you.”

“As I am for you, Will. That’s why I can’t for the life of me, understand why you’re about to do this.”

“Alana, please.” Will wrapped his arms around himself, while leaning against her car. Margot was in the passenger seat, twiddling away on her phone, content to pretend she couldn’t hear what was happening.

“You said when you finished the case-”

“That was before my ex-husband broke out of prison.” Will kept his voice low, trying not to snap. He knew Alana only wanted him to be safe and happy. He watched her out of the corner of his eye, watching her wavy hair billow around her, cheeks warm and rosy from the sweet tea then beer, and Floridian heat. He watched her try to be brave for her former patient and friend.

“He said he wouldn’t let me go. For anything, or anyone. He won’t leave Henry alone simply for my leaving him. On the contrary, he’ll most likely be angered at my obvious attempt at protecting him. I have to end this. And Henry has to make it out of this okay. He has to.”

Alana’s eyes watered again. This time he couldn’t look away. He watched as she absorbed the distinction of his words. Hannibal wouldn’t make it out. Will didn’t have to make it out. As long as Henry did, then it was fine. Will was done trying to save himself.

“Please come back, Will. Please.” Alana choked out. “I did this! I brought him into your path, and I can’t sleep, and I can’t deal with this. Not this. I can’t… Will, please.” Will wrapped her in his arms tightly, feeling the sobs wracking her small frame.

“I’ll try. All I can do is try.”

 

Hannibal always found humor in the thoughts of what Will was imagining. He’d never been able to fully understand or predict his lover’s thoughts, but he was sure that whatever Will thought Hannibal was doing, was a lot more exciting than reality.

Hannibal had just finished with his shed. Or rather, Will’s future shed. Though he never said anything when he moved in with Hannibal, he knew Will longed for that space. He’d always thought he’d have time to make that a reality. Now, he’s trying to implement everything into their lives that Will always desired, including-

Just then small, excited paws could be heard pounding against the wet earth, coming closer, and closer towards him. He sighed. Ginger is a beauty, yes, but she is quite rambunctious. He knew Will would adore her though, so she stays. His favorite new edition, was Eleanor. A sleek, midnight Labrador, soon to give birth. He hoped she’d deliver when Will arrived.

When he wasn’t organizing Will’s new shed, or cultivating their canine family, he was taking care of other menial details, like his fresh produce garden, the newly arrived kennels, destroying old enemies, and serving them for lunch… small stuff.

 He spent an inordinate amount of time by the phone like a prepubescent girl, debating on calling him. He spent years in prison, yet the few stolen moments he got with Will opened the flood gates. He needed more. He needed Will more. The bliss and insanity he felt while burrowing his face in Will’s warm neck, his strong jaw dotted with stubble, and tendrils of his curls caressing the bridge of his nose. All while he had a man’s neck in between his deadly hands. How did Will expect him to forget that? To let him go? He wouldn’t. It was no longer an option, if it ever was.

His darling would be with him soon. And his would-be replacement? He’ll be the feast.

After everything was finally squared away, Hannibal was once again on a flight, this time to Florence. He knew that would be the first place his cunning boy would look for him. Unfortunately, that’s where just about anyone who knew him would look as well. Hence their new home being Havana. Hannibal sighed inwardly.

 

The things you do for love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you that follow my work, I'll be posting oneshots in the Shepherd Dog universe soon! But I am also a part of other fandoms, and even if you like those shows... you most likely won't like my ships, lol. So, if you start getting notifications about it, feel free to unsubscribe, it's no worries! I don't want ya to feel like you have to read all my stuff, lol.
> 
> Also, I'll try to keep up more frequently, but the chapters will have to remain around 1k-2k.... I know my limits now, lol.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wowwwwww, I really ain't shit.
> 
> Anywho! Hey guys, I'm back with another short ass chapter, but the fall semester is over, I've gotten my shit together, and I'm ready to get. back to it!
> 
>  
> 
> On another note, it has come to my attention, that the fluffy, non-sexual aspect to Will and Hannibal's love may seem none existent, but that's probably because all of their non-sexual, fluffy past is the stuff I plan on putting in the one-shots that don't fit in the story. So if it seems like Will's connection only stems from how sexy Mads, I mean, Hannibal is... DAS WHY.

The first stop in Scotland was Perth. Henry was a sucker for romantic shows, and he begged and pleaded with Will to go there first. Will knew why. Shortly after their tour around the stunning green plains and forests, they were back in their bed and breakfast. Henry wouldn’t stop calling Will Sassenach.

“You’re so lame, you know that?”

Will laughed out merrily. Henry would just smile cheekily in reply.

They spent awhile in Scotland touring the small villages that dotted the country. Henry showed Will his family’s village, and even the spot where their old cottage used to reside. It was a small patch of land that was surrounded by a small stream.

“I want to come back here one day. Build a little cottage, and grow old with my girls. I always imagined going to sleep easy one night after burying them. Now, I’m just hoping I won’t be alone.” Henry turned his face away from Will in their bed. It was night at the bed and breakfast, and they had the window opened to let in the warm air. Henry was looking at the moon outside, and Will was just trying not to cry.

Will knew he hadn’t made things easy for Henry when he got back. He stayed close, tried to act like everything was alright, but Henry saw through it. And Will, saw through his plan, and the follies of it.

Despite all of Will’s noble intentions, he was still bringing his boyfriend to danger. Without his knowledge. A million things could go wrong, despite Will’s intention to leave Henry clear out of harm’s way. Henry needed to know. He deserved that much. So, Will told him the night they landed in Scotland. And they had their first shouting match. And though they’re okay now, Henry knows as keenly as Will, that he hasn’t completely forgiven Henry for what he said.

 

“Why would you give him what he’s after, huh?” Henry roared.

“You said it yourself, Henry. He won’t stop just because I leave you, so I have to stop him!”

“Will you?”

Will started at that. Henry was a lot quieter, though no less angry.

“Will I what?” Will murmured. Will knew what he meant. His accelerated heart rate, and trembling hands told him that much. He was hoping that asking would make Henry pause. It didn’t.

“Will you actually stop him, or are you going to just join him?” Henry spat through his teeth. Will blinked. The silence is clearly what Henry was not expecting or desiring. He visibly cooled down, as his face grew resigned with horror at his implications.

“I’ve been doubted and questioned by the entire world for marrying him. For a while, I even saw it in the eyes of my good friend, and psychiatrist. But not once. Not ONCE, did I ever think I’d have to hear that shit from you.” Will walked away from Henry, and didn’t return until the morning. When he did, he saw the room immaculate, while Henry was in complete disarray, His clothes was thrown on haphazardly, tennis shoes untied, and flaming hair closely resembling a bird’s nest. When he saw the door open, his forest green eyes widened comically, as he rushed Will, murmuring a million apologies against his curls, crushing Will to his warm chest. They’ve been good since.

 

Well, sort of.

 

“I still think this is a hellish idea. In fact, hellish doesn’t even cover it. That’s why Alana looked so frightened when I mentioned Florence! She knew!” Henry stayed on that tirade the entire time in the airport, dragging his feet the entire way. Will was ready to get it over with. He needed to take care of Hannibal, and move on with his life. Once, and for all.

“Of course, it is. But so is waking up one day, finding your corpse in the sand.”

“That’s not funny, Babe.”

“I know.” Will shouldered his carry-on with a straight face, as it was time for them to board the nonstop flight to Florence, Italy.

 

Sitting down next to Henry in the crowded plane, Will looked to his side. Henry was knocked out, long, lanky legs cramped by the bastard in the seat in front of him. Will studied his freckles, and how they faded into his crow’s feet, and finally let his overwhelming guilt consume him.

The reason he was so damned angry because of what Henry said was because-

 

It was far too close to the truth. Closer than Will wanted to admit.

Even now, he remembers how he forgot about Henry’s existence for a few, heart stopping moments. He forgot.

He forgot how strong Hannibal is.

He forgot how soft his lips are.

He forgot how mindless his powerful thighs, and chest used to make him.

And he forgot Henry.

And it was like the last few years never happened. Like they were those insatiable creatures that nearly got exposed in the supply closet at the opera when they first met again. Back when Hannibal hounded him down like a madman, and Will behaved like a wanton whore the moment he looked into those deep-set eyes.

Back when they used to giggle like a pair of naughty five-year-olds on the floor of their kitchen eating Hannibal’s homemade dark chocolate pudding with their fingers.

Back when he watched Hannibal get drunk off of three-dollar draft beer in a shitty diner.

Back when he believed Hannibal loved him.

And then he remembered.

And he pushed away, and walked away, and ran into what felt like the wrong pair of strong arms, and he smiled, and concealed. And.

 

And.

 

But it didn’t take away what he felt. And what he knew. That was why he felt guilty. Because he knew, as Henry didn’t, that he asked a valid question. One that made him finally face the facts.

Will is still in love with Hannibal.

 

Fuck.

 

“So how, exactly, are we to find a pretentious, murderous, ex-husband, huh?” Henry gruffed. They’d just set down the last of their luggage, in the quaint, little, hotel room.

“Not we, Henry.” Will’s tone brooked no argument, though they’d still had plenty.

“You can’t expect me to-”

“Yes, I can. I do.”

It was evening. Henry was visibly exhausted from bringing luggage up to their hotel room. Will’s heart sank. Hannibal would eat him alive.

Some of what he was feeling must have shown on his face. Henry’s face grew red with anger.

“So, that’s it. That’s what you think of me.”

Will sighed. He almost wished he hadn’t told him.

“You are a civilian.”

“So are you, Will!”

Will paused. Took a deep breath, and stood. He slowly walked towards Henry, and embraced him around his soft mid-section tightly. He craned his neck to look up at his tall, stubborn partner.

“I know how to find him. I will. But I NEED you to be safe. And away from him. I swear I’ll never ask something like this of you again. And if you want to move to Scotland to live in a fucking cottage, I’ll do it… just let me do this. Please.”

It was a long few moments. Will thought Henry wasn’t going to say anything at all. In the end, he didn’t need to. He just sighed, and pressed his forehead softly against Will’s, rubbing his fingers through his curls. Will tried not to think of the similarity between him and his father when he spoke his next words:

“I just have to take care of a few things. You get some sleep.”

“Just promise me you’ll come back.”

“I promise.” Will lied.

He knew whichever way he looked at it, there was no guarantee.

There never was, with Hannibal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm hoping I can do the show down chapter in the next few days I get off.
> 
> I'm hoping I'm not telling stories. Anyway, thank you to those that have stuck with this story. BELIEVE me when I say, I get how frustrating it can be when you get hooked on a story, and they don't update for a month. I just hope that the ending I have in mind will be satisfying enough to make up for it.
> 
> Don't forget to review! See y'all.
> 
> (P.S....... anyone catch the blunt force hint about another show I love? lolol)


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I'm back! Thanks for all the reviews, kudos, and hits! You guys are the greatest. No beta, (like I ever had one) So, mistakes are my own. Enjoy the chapter.

He knew he was close. He could feel it. The air around the chapel felt all the more breathable, though curiously, a lump formed in his throat at the thought of seeing Will again so soon. As much as he’d love to believe his darling had come to his senses, and immediately left the ginger to come back to his arms, he was… unfortunately too much of a realist. He had yet to have fully atone for the abominable way he treated Will. No. His little shepherd dog was on the offense. To protect that pig, er, sheep, that slept in his bed. Will was going to try to do something unfortunate. Hannibal sighed as he leaned against the wall, hidden from view in the sanctuary below.

 

How he wished it wasn’t true.

  
  
  


The closer Will got to Hannibal, (and he knew he was close) the more conflicted he got. His recent killing of his father’s murderer, and subsequent realization of his dormant, but still there feelings for Hannibal plagued him. There were many places in Italy that Will could see Hannibal. He briefly considered Palermo, but he knew his hus- ex-husband. Better than he ever did while they were married, and though, there were many places he knew he would wander, he knew where Hannibal would be. Will took a deep breath, ran his fingers through his loosely coiffed hair, and entered the Uffizi Gallery.

  
  
  


He was breathtaking. Of course, he was breathtaking, he always had been. Even at the end. When he was tormented by their past, and the judgemental eyes around him. Even when he was pale, and gaunt from lack of sunlight and nutrition. He was beautiful. Hannibal couldn’t help but stab himself mentally. He should have been kind. Though Will would’ve been torn, and hurt, he wouldn’t have abandoned Hannibal. Everyone else would have, but not him. Will didn’t much care what other people thought of him anyway. Hannibal let himself get carried away in his would-be life with Will if he hadn’t turned on him. 

 

Will would’ve moved out of their home. He’d have to, to keep himself and the dogs safe. He’d live out in the middle of nowhere again. And he’d visit. Maybe he’d be reluctant, and resentful at first, but he wouldn’t stop. They’d take what they could get. And when it was the right time, he’d break out, and live on the run with his beautiful husband.

 

Hannibal snapped out of it when he heard a soft hum, felt a warm presence sit next to him, and smelled cedar, sweat, and sunshine. He could faintly smell something else, and he sighed. The warmth next to him shifted.

 

“Hello again, Hannibal.” 

  
  


“Hello, Will.”

 

Will was surprised at how wary Hannibal was looking at him. He thought he’d be thrilled. Though, he knows Hannibal is intelligent, and Will hadn’t exactly kept his distain for him a secret. Hannibal clearly hadn’t caught on to the revelation, and subsequent fence-sitting Will has been doing in regard to his feelings for him. He’d use that to his advantage.

 

“I feel I should probably be embarrassed from how predictable you find me.” Hannibal murmured.

 

“Not predictable. I just….know you, Hannibal. Now more than ever.” Will replied brightly. He had a soft smirk on his face that faded at the expression on Hannibal’s face. He looked on the verge of tears.

 

“Truly?” He whispered hoarsely, as if it was all he ever wanted in life. As if the answer held the meaning to it. Hannibal looked vulnerable. The part of Will that was still angry, and hurting over his betrayal crowed. This is the perfect moment. The part of Will that said I do all those years ago, the part that melted everytime he looked in those amber eyes wavered.

 

“Yes. I do.”

 

Hannibal visibly snapped as if cut from strings. He fell forward over his knees, holding his face. He was completely silent, except for a bone-deep sigh. Will felt his stomach twist uncomfortably at the sight. When he lifted, he looked composed, but his face was still a bit damp. Will no longer felt sure-footed. He wasn’t sure if he ever was.

 

“Is there somewhere we can go, Hannibal? This conversation….. Not sure if it’s something we should have here.” Will looked around inconspicuously. 

 

Hannibal sat up even straighter. Will noticed to his dismay, that Hannibal wasn’t wearing a suit, but a form-fitting v-neck charcoal sweater, black leather jacket, and jeans. The hair on his strong chest was just peeking through. With his soft, loose hair, longer than Will had ever seen it, brushing against his collar bones, the salt and pepper, finally taking over the majority of his blonde. He looked, unreasonably sexy.

 

“You are right. I’ve been staying in a hotel I’m fond of for the past few days, but if you’re amenable, I have a summer home, just on the outskirts of the city. I already have my few things transferred over there. We can take our leave at once.”

 

Will’s stomach turned further at the blatant pleading tone to his voice. He knows. He knows what Will is here to do, and he’s still going along with it. Still is holding on to hope that Will will stay with him. Will felt some part of him break. He hopes vaguely, while exiting the museum, that it was nothing vital.

Will’s confusion over the lack of car visible in the nearly empty parking lot must have shown on his face. Hannibal’s eyes lightened up with amusement and mischief. Will’s stomach clenched again. At this rate, he’ll get a stomache ache. He hadn’t seen this playful side of Hannibal, since they were married, and still living together.

 

Hannibal walked right past the few foreign cars in the lot for the sleek, black motorcycle. He unhooked the lone helmet, and handed it to a shell shocked Will. Hannibal gracefully swung one of his long, powerful legs over the beast, while looking at Will with a smile.

 

“Going my way?”

 

Will wordlessly snapped on the helmet, and climbed on the back. He wrapped his arms around Hannibal’s back, and when the motorcycle revved to life, he clung to his back, pressing all along Hannibal’s body. He ignored the tingle he felt all along his hands and thighs. Hannibal smoothly peeled away like a pro, and before long they were veering down the road, wind whipping viciously through Hannibal’s unprotected hair.

 

It was almost another half an hour, before they stopped. When Will looked up, he barely reined in a gasp. It was a beautiful, spacious home, completely understated for someone like Hannibal. The style was completely off. Too much open space, no large glass windows. It was a home built with Will in mind. Will numbly got off the back of the cycle, and pulled the helmet off of his head, he startled for a moment when he felt long fingers run through his curls. Before he could jerk away or lean in, the fingers were gone. When he looked up, Hannbal was walking up the winding path to the front door. Will hurried to catch up.

 

Several silent minutes later, and they were sitting on a freshly unsheeted couch, sipping a glass of heavenly whiskey. Will cleared his throat.

 

“Could you promise to leave him alone?”

 

“You know I can’t.” Hannibal replied promptly, before taking a small sip.

 

“What if I stayed?” Will asked bluntly.

 

Hannibal may not have actually choked, but he looked like he wanted to. He collected himself at the last moment.”

 

“You’d say anything to keep your lover safe, wouldn’t you?” Hannibal asked softly. Will felt his heart skip a beat. He was in dangerous territory. Hannibal was pissed. Will knew he needed to stay calm, to avert his bloodlust, but his own was rearing its ugly head. He dropped his glass, heedless of the crash it made, shattering against the floor, or the splash against his pantleg. He stood, mirroring Hannibal’s position, he walked closer, watching Hannibal catalogue his movements with his eyes. Will didn’t stop until they were a eye-to-eye. He could smell the whisky, spicy on Hannibal’s warm breath.

 

“You have no right to anything! How could you? YOU CHOSE THIS! YOU DID ALL OF THIS!” Will hardly took a breath. When he spoke again, it was but a whisper, but just as vicious. 

 

“You chose to tear us apart. To tear ME apart. And now you think you can decide what I do? Who I stay with? FUCK YOU, HANNIBAL?”

 

“I wouldn’t presume to decide what you do, Will. Just as you cannot decide for me. I can only hope.” Hannibal replied calmly.

 

Will’s eyes began to tear up with fury. He looked around, until he found what he was looking for. Within the next moment, he had a sharp shard of glass pressed against Hannibal’s throat, gripping it tight enough to slice through his own hand. Hannibal looked pleased. He pressed his throat even further against the shard, uncaring of the warm drop of blood down his neck.

 

“Don’t hesitate now, Will. This is what you came all this way for, was it not?”

 

“Shut up.” Will muttered. His voice at this point was as watery as his stormy blue eyes.

 

“I-I ruined everything. Killing me is the only way to save him, Will. You know I’ll do it.”

 

“I know.” Will whispered.

 

“Then why do you hesitate?” Hannibal asked. He looked into Will’s drenched eyes, and he knew. Will knew he knew by the way his eyes widened. Hannibal licked his full lips, and curiously enough, his eyes started to water too.

 

“I don’t know what to do.” Hannibal said. Will tilted his head to the side, confused.

 

“I was truly willing to die by your hands, Will. It was the only death I’d willingly take. I thought it might make things better. That it might be the way to atone for what I’ve done to you. But now….”

 

“I don’t understand.”

 

“You love me.” Hannibal stated forthright. “Still.” At this, Hannibal said it with unconcealed wonder, as if the very possibility had never crossed his mind.

 

“I was loathe to believe what your lawyer and confidant, Beverly told me, when she said you no longer believed I love you, but eventually I had to believe it to be true. I therefore believed the reverse was also true.”

Will’s tears flowed freely. “I could always hate you more, but I could never love you less.” He quoted. He abruptly threw the glass away, and grabbed the side of Hannibal’s face, smearing his blood along his jawbone. He knocked his forehead softly against Hannibal’s looking in his eyes. He could see the tears clumping his light eyelashes.

 

“I’m a monster.” Hannibal whispered wetly.

 

“You’re a goddamned human, Hannibal. More human than most…. And fuck, you’re mine.” Will whispered through clenched teeth, before he wrapped both of his arms around Hannibal’s neck, kissing him furiously. Will felt like he was exploding, finally giving in to the thing he’d been holding back for so long. Hannibal groaned loudly, and immediately wrapped his arms around both of Will’s legs and carried him to the bedroom. He breathed him in fully, with the smell of cedar, sweat, and sunshine, being drenched in the sweet smell of his blood, whiskey, and still a bit of…. Something else. 

 

Hannibal would deal with that later.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “I can hate you more, but I'll never love you less.”
> 
> ― Michael Morpurgo, War Horse
> 
> Things are winding down, (and heating up, omfg finally) And I'm going to try my hand at some hannigram smut in the next chapter. If it isn't for you (Or if it sucks, I'm sososo sorry, lol) Just skip it, it shouldn't be too long.
> 
> Also, the next chapter 'might' be the last before the epilogue. Depends on what Hannibal wants.
> 
> Thanks for reading!!!! See y'all next time.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so so so sorry, this is less than 2k, and took months, and isn't even good (to me), But I haven't given up on this story, never will, and I'm working towards the end. It just took me longer than expected to get back into the swing. Anywho, let's get this snippet out there!

Will knew he had to get up. Time was rapidly running out, and he needed to go. But, the tears refused to stop. He felt his presence behind him, waiting, and furious at what Will had done.

Will felt all but rooted to the spot, Knees splinting in the center, pulling his roots past the hardwood floors, and into the center of the Earth. Those very roots were being both nurished and tainted by the blood of the man he loved right before him. Tears flooded Will’s eyes, as his breathing grew harsh. He looked into those beautiful eyes for what he was sure was the last time.

 

“Hannibal.” Will croaked wetly.

  
  


**Three hours earlier**

 

Will felt like he was on fire. He didn’t know where to put his hands. Hair, face, chest, back, it was never enough.  He felt more than heard the groaning emanating from Hannibal’s warm, solid chest. He felt Hannibal’s slick lips running over his jaw and neck, whispering filthy promises that set his veins aflame. He was stunned momentarily by being thrown on top of the bed, when they arrived to the bedroom. He hardly had a moment to get his bearings before Hannibal pounced on him, caging him in with his powerful arms. Will needed him right then and there, and Hannibal knew it. The looks of adoration and incredulousness hadn’t yet left Hannibal’s eyes, he was definitely becoming his old self and fast. They tussled for a while, slow, sippy kisses became feverish bites and licks.

 

Will assumed with the small part of his brain that could still function rationally, that Hannibal would’ve wanted to take his time. Savor this moment with him. Surprisingly, Hannibal pushed them higher, harder, and faster. As if any second, this bliss would be ripped from his hands. If Will’s body hadn’t been on fire, he might’ve asked why. 

 

Afterwards, and Will was surprised there even was an afterwards, with how relentless Hannibal was, they laid there together in that foreign space in contemplative silence. Then Hannibal moved.

 

“Hannibal?”

 

“There’s something that I have to take care of Will. I’m surpised I was allowed this much time with you uninterrupted.” He was calmly slipping into his soft, lounging wear as he said this.

 

Will felt he was missing something, while still in post-coital ecstasy, his mind stayed delayed, not catching up to Hannibal’s seemingly inhuman instincts.

 

“I don’t understand-”

 

“Your lover is here, Will. He followed you. Has been for sometime, I imagine.”

 

Those few words effectively tethered Will to the here and now, dousing him like crisp sea water in winter. His throat felt like it was closing as he watched Hannibal leave the room, desperation filling him, as he became hyperaware, of the love bites covering him, his sex-induced flush, and kiss-swollen lips. If Henry truly was there, then he’d know what happened between him and Hannibal the moment he saw him. Most likely already did. 

 

Will got dressed perfunctorily, and dashed out of the room, hardly taking note of his wild, sex-curls. Henry was already there, drenched from head to toe from the silent, heavy rain falling outside. Will felt his heart break looking into his sad, betrayed green eyes. Hannibal was off to the side, clearly having waited for Will before he did anything.

 

“Henry.” Will croaked. He licked his burning lips with shame, cringing inside by how wrecked his voice sounded. Will wondered if Henry was there when he was screaming out Hannibal’s name.

 

“Is this where you end it, Will?” Henry whispered hotly.

 

“You didn’t go into detail about your plan. What part are we at?”

 

“I don’t-I can’t Henry, please go-”

 

“I’M NOT LEAVING WITHOUT YOU, WILL.” Henry roared.

 

Just like that, it all came flooding to Will in waves. The small, trivial things he’d learned about Henry over the months came to the forefront of Will’s mind. 

 

The middle child of five. All sons, all exemplary, except him.

 

Heartbroken by fickle, wayward lovers one too many times.

 

Constantly drawn in by the dangerous, and elusive. He always wanted what he shouldn’t, and was bored by what he should. (See Connie).

 

Always in the shadow of his classmates, brothers, and lovers’ ex-lovers. He’d had enough.

He wouldn’t back down again. Not again.

 

“You’re not leaving at all.” Came Hannibal’s voice.

“Hannibal, stop.”

 

“I won’t, Will. Certainly not now.” Hannibal was still off to the side, entirely relaxed. Will knew better. He could see the way his toes curled against the wooden floor, ready to pounce at a  moment’s notice.

 

Will wasn’t sure who moved first, it all happened so fast. One moment, they’re staring at eachother from a few feet away, then one is charging the other, and-

 

Henry had a gun.

 

It was already raised by the time Hannibal decided to act.

 

Tears fell from Henry’s eyes, blending with the rain soaking his hair and face, his nose was running, and his lip bleeding, split from how hard he was bitting it. The gun was on the floor, after he shot Hannibal. Will was frozen. His brain couldn’t commute what had happened.

 

Blood was rapidly spreading across the floor around Hannibal, as he coughed wetly, eyes still locked on Henry, though he was losing energy, and fast.

 

“I called the police, Will.”

 

His knees hit the floor.

 

“We have to move.”

 

He crawled to Hannibal, heedless of the warm blood soaking his pants. He brushed his hands across Hannibal’s face pulling his head into his lap. In all of Will’s worst-case scenarios, he never thought there could be one worse. In all of them Henry was dead, broken beyond compare. Hannibal back in prison or on the run. Will alone, and in despair. He never saw this.

 

Hannibal smiled up at him softly, before he closed his eyes, much to tired from blood loss. The tears finally started to well in Will’s eyes, falling rapidly. He grit his teeth in agony, as his eyes shifted around, as time was quickly winding down for decisions. He could faintly hear the sirens in the distance. He noted faintly that Henry’s gun was still by the couch, and Henry was now behind him, furiously waiting on Will to get up, and much to far away to act. 

 

Should Will decide to.

 

“Hannibal.” Will croaked wetly.

 

Time was up. It was time to act.


End file.
